


Silence is Silver, Talk is Gold

by calysto1395



Series: All in all [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Inappropriate Jokes, Mage Hawke - Freeform, Modern AU, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calysto1395/pseuds/calysto1395
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All in all, a nearly abandoned parking lot probably wasn't the best place to proposition illegal activities to a woman he had never met before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solshine/gifts).



> So, this got a bit away from me. I've had this AU in my head for quite a while, hence why its gotten so long. The prompt was:
> 
> I love AUs--not a requirement, but unusual AUs are fun! I have a weakness for modern Thedas, too (magic, elves, dwarves, etc)  
> Mostly Id love to see something that deals with the under acknowledged fact that Varric is the least forthcoming person EVER. He talks about himself all the time, sure, and yet makes sure nobody ever learns a thing about him. I'd love a pining Varric sitting squarely on his love, either because Hawke's in a relationship already or for no good damn reason. (Ending happily, of course!)
> 
> I hope I fullfilled to your satisfaction!

Hightown Market used to be a flea market where one could find anything from rugs to clothes and food, to liquor and jewelry. An honest place for honest people. Now that fancy shops littered the edges of the plaza the only people that set up shop during the week were farmers from outside the city, selling fresh fruit and vegetables. It was now a dishonest place for dishonest people , as even the most inexperience pickpocket could manage to snag the purse or wallet of some cocky noble.

Varric spotted Athenril farther from the crowd, a bag of grapes in her hand that she was chewing at idly. She didn't acknowledge him when he came to a stop next to her other than to offer him the bag of fruit. Varric could never resist fresh fruit, especially if it was free.

"So, here we are," he said, and Athenril hummed in response. Summer was celebrating its beginning with the hottest day of the year thus far, the sun beating down on them mercilessly.

After another grape she said, "Any second now," Athenril's fingers made the bag in her hand crinkle as she looked around impatiently. He imagine she wanted to be anywhere but here. Just like Varric himself, Athenril could hardly hide her heritage with her sharp ears and long nose. Even years after the elven folk had been paid respects by most major politicians and given some of their land back, prejudice within people's minds was never far. At least people only thought Varric was afraid of the sky sometimes and didn't clutch their purses tighter when they passed him.

Varric observed the crowd as they waited, looking for the extraordinary. The city was hiding away from the midday heat so most people occupying the square were servants and old people. He had to admit to himself he had missed this, this pressing heat, away from the air conditioning and the jumble of people. He and his mother used to come here every Sunday before his father had died and she had perished.

Athenril slapped his shoulder and jerked her head towards Hubert's stand that was selling spices and dried herbs next to liquor and tacky jewelry.

From the crowd emerged a young woman with wild black hair. Her clothes were a mismatch of too big and too worn clothing assembled together to make a somewhat decent outfit that at least covered most of her body. One of her shoulders was weighed down by a brimming messenger bag, one hand resting loosely on the strap.

She greeted Hubert with a smile and a wave that he returned in the most Orlesian manner, sneering. He handed her a pouch that she made disappear discreetly in her inner jacket pocket. The two chatted as Hawke dug some money from an envelope.

"I was expecting-" Varric started but Athenril interrupted him with a sneer of her own.

"What? Some beefed up brick wall? Didn't think you'd judge someone by appearance," She said, and managed to pop a grape into her mouth angrily.

Varric glared at her. "I don't."

"She's good. Worth whatever you are going to pay her and more. She's got some hidden talents, if you know what I mean," Athenril told him, her voice low.

Varric didn't want to imagine what Athenril meant. There were rumors about how Athenril kept her employees loyal but he had never thought there was a grain of truth in them. Prostitution had a long tradition in Kirkwall, there was a reason that the old brothel, the Blooming Rose was still standing today even years after it had gone out of business. Varric himself had found himself as a customer before and prostitutes often made excellent spies. Employing someone as muscle and then asking for extra services though? That didn't paint such a pretty picture. He gave her a thoughtful hum in response and made a mental note to investigate the matter further.

Hawke gave Hubert her hand to shake which he accepted, grumbling, before she turned around to leave. Varric handed Athenril a couple of coins for her trouble and set off after Hawke without looking back. The crowd did its best to swallow her from his view but this wasn't the first time Varric had tailed someone.

She left Hightown, sending a mock salute at Worthy who was just setting up shop for the day and skipped down the stairs. She passed the houses just below, that were classy but not quite classy enough for Hightown, through some dark and dingy alleys and down the next grand stairs to Lowtown. About every other block, she stopped to chat with random people that Varric couldn't group together.

His eyes and ears in the city all had that certain look about them. Small, plain and with a permanent bored expression. That way nobody questioned why that mousy girl with the giant headphones kept passing an important conversation, or when a brittle old man changed seats in the subway several times on one trip. The people Hawke associated with had no pattern at all.

His first suspicion was that maybe she was still running errands for Athenril. After all there was Lady Elegant, who cooed and slipped something into Hawke's hand and Anso, who smiled nervously back when she passed him. But then there was also the guys from the Jansen and Smith, whom she handed over some letters and Vincenco who exchanged frantic words with her. She actually stopped to talk to the only templar that Varric had ever seen to get lost in Lowtown without chasing a mage. The templar looked more like a shadow than man, threatening to rattle apart at the seams with his neat white uniform the only thing holding him together. Yet Hawke ruffled his unruly blond hair with a laugh, let him scowl at her. They talked for a while as Varric pretended to be interested in the display window of the Trinkets Emporium. Gold seemed to be in this year, who knew?

When she finally parted with the templar, Varric made a point to steal his wallet, just because. Who named their kid Cullen Rutherford really?

Hawke made her way through Lowtown and set for Darktown, and Varric started to despise his hometown a little for all the stairs it had. It was good that Hawke had the urge to talk to every second person she came across, because it gave Varric a chance to catch his breath. She definitely had the advantage on him with her long legs and boundless energy.

By the time they made it to the outskirts of the city, night had fallen, Hawke's messenger bag had emptied, and Varric had ruined his shoes. Expensive Antivan leather wasn't made for walking through every gutter in Kirkwall. Or its subway system.

They had gotten off at the last and only above ground station, Coast Road, for nothing else but drop a package in a trash bin that Hawke had gotten from Tomwise in Darktown. Maybe that special talent Athenril had talked about was walking a marathon.

The parking lot of the station was empty for the night, few cars sat around, most of them collecting parking tickets. Hawke was walking towards them with her hands in her pocket and whistling an idle tune as the tram left the station again. Varric craned his neck, to make sure he hadn't been followed and found the station was deserted. A stray cat jumped into one of the trashcans, making something inside rattle.

By the time Varric turned his attention back to Hawke, she had disappeared.

As if by magic, she had vanished into thin air, leaving Varric alone with the dark cars and the stray cat.

He frowned and approached the parking lot. She couldn't have gone far, he had only looked away for a second. This was ridiculous. Varric checked around a red van that had a rusting wheel clamp around its back wheel and found nothing.

"The fuck do you want?"

Varric did not flinch. He merely violently tensed in preparation for a fight.

Behind him, Hawke had popped her head up from behind a piece of shit car, that someone probably left there to be stolen. It had two different colored doors, neither matching each other or the car's primary color, or the hood. The only saving grace was that none of those pieces appeared to be surrendering to the rust that was creeping up from the wheels and festering in dents and scraps. She had her arms folded on the dirty sunroof and tapped her fingers on the glass.

Maker, it was her own car, wasn't it.

"How did you know I was following you?" Varric asked and put his hands in his pockets, eyeing the car with distaste. One of the tires was flat and someone had taken a blunt object to the rearview mirror at one point, only almost smashing it off the car. It still hung onto one scrap of metal despite gravity.

Hawke clicked her tongue. "You’re pretty conspicuous," A beat. "Also Athenril texted me."

She even dug her phone out of her pocket to prove it to him. Sure enough, the cracked screen showed a text from Athenril, saved as “Former Boss Bitch”, from this morning that read 'lil dwarven asshole on your six. stay safe'. Varric wasn't sure which one word was supposed to offend him most.

"Sounds just like her." He said as Hawke stuffed her phone back into her pocket. She ogled him head to toe without bothering to hide it.

"You know wearing a shirt like that in an area like this will get you robbed, right?" She said, bemused.

Varric already knew that, hence why he never left his home without a gun. He really liked his shirt and would hate to get it dirty. "I'm aware."

She drummed her nails on the glass and raised her eyebrows at him. "So?"

All in all, a nearly abandoned parking lot probably wasn't the best place to proposition illegal activities to a woman he had never met before.

"I have a job offer, if you’re interested." He said and watched as she tilted her head.

She was interested.

 

* * *

 

He invited Hawke to talk over business to his apartment, or the penthouse, as he liked to call it. It was his pompous calling card. The elevator drove directly into his apartment and opened to a open living space that combined living room, dining room and kitchen. The floor was sleek black marble that was polished to perfect shine, paired with bright leather or chrome furniture. Everything looked too expensive to touch and was supposed to intimidate and make people uncomfortable.

Hawke sauntered in, a giant following in her wake that she introduced as her brother Carver. He had about an head of height on her, meaning he had two on Varric and with the permanent scowl etched into his features, he didn't make the best first impression. They shook hands like civilized people, Varric made a quip about how he had heard very little about Hawke's brother which deepened the scowl before they got down to business.

"Our take is in this warehouse by the docks, owned by the Deep Roads Exploration Company." Varric explained and uncapped a red pen to mark the warehouse on the map he had spread out in front of them.

Hawke and Carver listened without comment, which was unexpected but not unwelcome. Varric would rather not have to repeat himself.

"There are two guards on the front entrance, changing shifts at 2:24am." Carver raised his eyebrow at the time but didn't interrupt. "Another at the back of the building, that is connected to the water for shipments. This is where we will go in. The doors have a access code but I have someone who will help us with that."

Hawke nodded along. "Do we kill them or knock them out?" She asked and Carver grit his teeth. Varric in turn, shrugged.

"I am not inclined one way or the other as long as they don't make us any trouble."

Carver didn't seem satisfied with that answer. Hawke took notice and changed the subject quickly.

"I know someone with a boat and who can handle herself in a fight. I'll talk to her."

"Anyone I know?" Varric asked and managed to only sound a little sarcastic. As of there was anyone important in the city he didn't know about.

Hawke shrugged. "I doubt it. She is from Rivaini, only recently got into the city. I can introduce you tonight."

"Sounds good. Do you know the Hanged Man?"

Hawke snorted. "Of course."

The Hanged Man Bar and Inn was one of the oldest buildings in Kirkwall, only rivaled by the Viscount's Keep and therefore was not allowed to be torn down. A pain the ass for the owners of Varric's apartment building who had found themselves with the challenge of either planning the building smaller or building it around the Hanged Man. They had chosen the latter much to the frustration of the Hanged Man's bartender, Corff. The legal battle had lasted longer than the actual construction of the skyscraper and ended to no one's favor.

From the outside it looked as if the big skyscraper was devouring the small two story house, from the inside the building's main hall and the hallways of floors one to three, one could observe the Hanged Man like a museum's exhibit behind glass.

One could not access the actual apartment building without going around the outside except for the door in Varric's actual apartment, which was located on the Hanged Man's second floor behind a door market as Utilities. What could he say? Varric was a private person and that included having a secret double apartment in a shady bar.

The Hanged Man was an inn in name only. The handful of rooms were always occupied by permanent residents like Varric and the "restaurant" served exactly three meals, two of which were stew. The thought of considering it as anything other than a bar was laughable.

"What exactly are we stealing?" Carver asked and managed to sound only slightly disgruntled.

"Information. They have handwritten files in storage on several old families and important people in Kirkwall, worth my weight in gold. Old Carta storage apparently. Also some jewelry and diamonds, supposedly but those are secondary."

"Wouldn't they be worth more than a bunch of paper?" Carver asked.

"Yes, if you could actually sell them." Varric explained and Hawke took over seamlessly.

"Gemstones are always marked and registered somewhere, meaning to sell them at all you have to get them cut or have the jewelry taken apart, diminishing the worth. It's a lot of work for not a lot of profit." She explained, and Varric felt a little impressed. Athenril had praised Hawke highly but Varric had assumed it was just to up her price on the labor.

Hawke turned from her brother to face him. "So, this is obviously a trap, right?" She said.

"Oh yes, definitely," Varric said.

"What?" added Carver.

"Someone has been feeding my brother this information. No doubt to trick him. There is no way of telling how many people could be inside the building, which is why I need you there." Varric explained.

Carver slammed his hands on the table, before throwing them up into the air. "Oh, that's just great." He said and stood up. As he walked away from them Hawke rolled her eyes and waved him off.

"He'll come around." She said, as the door to one of Varric's bathrooms slammed shut.

"Of course." Varric said and pretended not to see Hawke hanging her head and tapping her fingers nervously on the map.

 

* * *

 

The Hanged Man was easily Varric's favorite spot in the entire city. It was just disgusting enough not to attach strangers but just respectable enough that he could relax. All of Kirkwall's Underworld knew that the Hanged Man was the place to be when you wanted bad deeds done, another reason in favor of the bar. The proximity to his actual living quarters was another.

He spotted Hawke and her brother easily among the crowd, sitting at the only round table in the bar. Hawke seemed to stick out wherever she was. The two of them were deeply engaged into a conversation with another woman that had her back to Varric. Even from afar he could identify her easily enough, especially knowing who Hawke had wanted to introduce him to.

Isabela had arrived in Kirkwall only a few weeks prior, carrying an air of adventure and excitement behind her. She had taken one of the unoccupied rooms in the Hanged Man and spun grand tales in the bar at night about how she had ended up in the Free Marches, each night a different version. From what Varric had gathered she had most likely appeared in a ship that she had lost along the way, hence her being stranded in the city. She was a pirate in every sense of the word. Even her appearance was straight out of a period drama movie. Who even wore a bandana nowadays?

"Varric!" Hawke had finally spotted him and waved him over as he pretended not to have seen them. They shook hands when he sat down and Varric was surprised when Carver actually smiled at him. He would have to watch the Junior's alcohol consumption.

"Varric, meet Isabela," She said and Isabela lifted her pint at him. If she recognized him, she didn't show it.

"I'm going to be your captain," Isabela said with a wicked smile.

"So I've heard." Varric replied and shot a quick look at Hawke before focusing on Isabela again. "Have you discussed a payment yet?"

Hawke waved him off. "Don't worry about it." She said and took a drink from Isabela's pint.

"Hawke is doing me a favor, so I am doing her a favor." Isabela explained, putting an arm around Hawke's neck and stroking her naked arm before she stole her drink back from Hawke's hand.

Hawke laughed. "I better cut my fingernails then."

It took Carver visibly longer to understand his sister's implication, his face going through a journey from confusion to disgust. Hawke and Isabela merely laughed at his demise.

Varric kept his features carefully neutral.

"Wonderful, the next round is on me. Hawke? If you would help me carry." He announced and got out of his seat without waiting to see if Hawke followed.

Hawke managed to catch up to him at the bar as he ordered. "Three pints of the local and-" He started but Hawke put her hand up to stop him.

"No wait. I want to guess." She said, and Varric crossed his arms, lifting one eyebrow in amusement.

He distantly wondered how long Hawke and company had been drinking before he showed up as she squinted at him and tapped a finger at her chin. Norah, the waitress, waited patiently behind the counter for whatever was to follow.

"Whiskey on the rocks." Hawke said finally and Varric grinned.

"Close. I'll have a vodka." He grinned and Hawke snapped her fingers. Norah disappeared with an eyeroll and a smile to prepare their order.

"One day I am going to be right. That's a promise." Hawke told him, putting her elbows on the counter. Varric smiled instead of correcting her. He was going to make sure she that that wouldn't happen. Having a predictable order made him an easy target for poisoning, Varric had learned that lesson the hard way.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" She asked, a second later she added. "'Help me carry the drinks', like you couldn't be more obvious."

"What can I say, I like the classics." Varric told her and shot a look over his shoulder to their table where Carver and Isabela were engrossed in conversation. He lowered his voice deliberately. "We don't have to work with her, there are many good sailors in Kirkwall."

Hawke frowned at him. "What? Why? Is something wrong with her?" She lowered her voice and leaned in close enough that he could smell the beer on her breath.

Varric shook his head and collected his words carefully. "Not at all but we don't have to take the first offer we get."

"Everyone else will want a share of the profit." Hawke told him. "Isabela wants practically nothing in return, it's the best deal we are going to get and I've seen her fight before. If we are expecting an ambush, she is a good choice."

Varric grit his teeth. "I know but you don't have to do whatever she wants you to do." He said hushed and Hawke had to lean in closer to hear him over a rowdy group of mercenaries.

"It's no big deal, I've done stuff like that before." She told him with a frown.

This was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. "You don't have to do that anymore though. Not while working with me, okay?"

Hawke's expression turned more confused, her frown deepening before suddenly it dawned on her.

She put a hand over her mouth and Varric felt terrible for bringing the topic up like this. He glanced at Isabela and Carver again, to make sure they weren't paying attention. When he turned back to Hawke, he realized that she was hiding a grin behind her fingers.

"Varric. What kind of favor do you think Isabela wants?" She asked him, voice half laughter.

He paused.

"Not what I was thinking apparently, if you’re asking me like that." He said hastily and wished Norah would bring their drinks already.

Hawke threw her head back, barking out a loud laugh that was audible over the chatter in the bar. Varric faked a chuckle for the people that turned to stare at them and scowled at Hawke when she settled down.

She wiped some moisture from her eyes before she took both of his shoulders with her hands. "I am not, nor have I ever worked as a prostitute." She told him. "Isabela wants me to help one of her friends find some cargo that got stolen."

"That's all?" He couldn't help but ask, desperately hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

"That's all." Hawke told him grave, before her face split into a smile again. "I am flattered though," she said and let her hands slip off his shoulders to grab two of the glasses Norah sat down next to them.

"Can we agree never to speak of this again?" Varric asked and dug up some coins from his pocket.

Hawke walked back to their table. "Depends on how drunk I am by the end of the night," she threw over her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Hawke was surprised when she opened the door for him. She greeted him with a confused "Hi?"

Varric was more than a little annoyed at her reaction, especially because the elevator of the building she lived in was broken and he had to walk up the stairs to the thirteenth floor.

"You said you wanted to talk about something?" He told her, only a little breathless. At her frown he dug his cellphone out of his pocket and showed him the text she had send him earlier.

"That wasn't me," She said, bewildered, before her expression turned into a frown. "Mother!" Hawke shouted into the apartment.

A woman appeared behind Hawke in an instant. Her graying-blonde hair was bound in a loose ponytail that fell softly over her shoulders and she wore a smile that warmed Varric's sour demeanor. At first glance, she and Hawke couldn't look any more different. Hawke with her square jaw and high cheekbones, the slightest gust of freckles on her skin and her dark hair set them apart. On closer examination, her mother and her shared the lips and the shape of their eyes as well as the nose and when Varric offered his hand, he noticed that they also had similar slender hands.

"I invited him. Leandra Hawke, it's a pleasure to meet you." She said with a smile and handed Hawke's phone to her, who took it with a frustrated groan.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Hawke. Varric Tethras, but I imagine you know that already." He said. She stepped aside, taking Hawke by the shoulders to do the same before she gestured him inside.

"Please call me Leandra. Are you hungry? We've just set the table." Leandra shut the door behind him and walked over to the table in the middle of the hallway, where Carver and a grey-haired, surly looking man sat, both glaring in his direction.

"What is going on?" Varric hissed at Hawke.

She shook her head with a exasperated sigh. "Mother, you know we are business partners,” she said, "There is no need to interrogate him."

Leandra waved her off and sat down. "I know, dear. Sit down. The food will get cold."

Hawke gave him a helpless look and opened her mouth to say something but Varric stopped her.

"I'd love to join you," He said and sat down on one of the mismatched chairs. The table was tiny and cramped, even for four people. It stood mere inches away from the wall, which was where Hawke put a folding chair for herself before she walked into the kitchen to grab another set of cutlery and dishes. The kitchen was right next to the entrance. Someone had removed the door and instead hung a curtain of beads in the doorway to make it seem more open. It only caused the smell of the food to cling to the hallway. Varric detected cabbage in the air even if there was none on the table. Leandra had made a simple broth stew that seemed Ferelden alone from the color and the smell, hearty and hefty.

Hawke sat down opposite him, back pressed against the wall and long legs folded under her chair as Leandra filled everyone's bowl.

"Are we feeding strangers now too?" The man spit. He was the only one with a piece of bread next to his plate.

"We paid for this meal ourselves, you can either eat it quietly or leave the table," Leandra told him sternly, and the man snorted.

"Getting evicted from my own table? That'll be the day I hang myself." He said and started to shovel the food down his throat.

Hawke put a hand on her chest and accepted the bowl from Leandra. "Oh, don't leave us waiting, uncle. Not on our account."

"Marian." Leandra half-hearted scolded her daughter before she turned to him. "Please excuse Gamlen," Gamlen glared at Hawke, who gave him the sweetest smile. Carver merely laughed into his dinner and muttered a 'good one' to his sister.

Gamlen stood, making his chair scratch over the plastic floor and making sure to bump the table. He took another helping before he took his bowl and disappeared into one of the rooms, slamming the door behind him. Hawke and Carver rolled their eyes in unison and kept eating. Varric cleared his throat.

"So, any particular reason you invited me other than to spoil me with your wonderful food?" He asked Leandra.

"You flatter me." She inclined her head and folded her hands in her lap like lady. There was a natural grace to her that he recognized in Hawke. She did her best to hide the natural grace she inherited from her mother by acting insultingly Ferelden. "I know my daughter isn't always on the right side of the law,"

"We were smugglers for an entire year, mother." Carver threw in, with his mouth half full.

Leandra ignored him. "I am not saying I approve but I see that we do not have many options."

"Gee, thanks." Hawke said, mouth just as full and Varric finally saw the family resemblance between her and Carver went deeper than looks.

"I just want to know that my children are safe. With Bethany so far away, they are all I have." He expected another smart comment from the peanut gallery, but the change of topic seemed to shut both Hawke and Carver up. Varric didn’t know Bethany, only heard her being mentioned in conversation sometimes but from context she was most likely another Hawke sibling. There was a story there, one that nobody was willing to share. He would have to remember this piece of information for later.

Varric took one of Leandra's hands in his, and looked her straight in the eyes; he saw a clear sky blue, only a few shades darker than her children.

"Leandra, as a parent myself, I understand your worry completely and you have my word that I will do everything in my power to protect them."

Hawke choked and began coughing, earning strange looks that she waved off. With a muttered 'Forgot to chew,' she excused herself and got some tap water from the kitchen. Meanwhile, Leandra gave him grateful smile.

"Thank you, that means a lot. I knew you were a decent man," she said, and Varric mentally congratulated himself.

The rest of the meal passed quietly. Varric knew how to make easy conversation about everything and nothing, and Leandra was fluent in the same. Hawke and Carver stuck to sarcastic comments and rude jokes that annoyed their mother and amused Varric.

By the time Leandra pressed a container with leftover into his hands he was almost sad to go, if it weren't for the persistent aroma of cabbage and the hint of wet dog. Hawke walked downstairs with him after he had said his goodbye's, which Varric couldn't comprehend. Why someone would willingly subject themselves to thirteen flights of stairs he would never know, but Hawke's thighs had to come from somewhere.

"Where is your dog? I missed him all evening." Varric stated by the time they reached the fifth floor.

"He and Aveline like to hang out," Hawke said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Of course," He added slowly, if only to let her believe so.

At the third floor she finally stopped, one hand awkwardly patting the railing apologetically. "Sorry about that, that was incredibly awkward."

Varric had a full belly, a container full of delicious food and face hurting from smiling all evening. He had enjoyed himself, even if his legs were already starting to hurt from the exercise. "It's alright," He said, trying not to pant too evidently. What he wouldn’t give for some killer thighs.

Hawke nodded. "So," She continued walking to avoid looking at him. "You got kids?"

"Maker, no." She stopped, foot hovering above the next step and turned around to him. "I lied. Is that a problem?" He raised his eyebrow. Leandra and Hawke didn't appear to have the most trusting relationship but he couldn't always predict how people reacted when their parents were involved. Some people were especially sensitive about their mothers. Not that Varric knew anything about that from personal experience.

Hawke stared for a split second before her face broke into a smile. "No. Hilarious though," She sighed in… relief? No, that couldn’t be right.

"It puts people at ease," he explained.

Hawke nodded. "Makes you seem harmless."

"And makes them look for a weakness in a place where there is none." Varric said before he could stop the words. He didn't like to flaunt his trade secrets everywhere but-

He needed Hawke to trust him and to trust her if she was going to watch his back on a dangerous job. It was a small detail, safe enough to share, he decided as they touched on the ground floor.

"Smart." Hawke said and opened the cracked glass door for him. "I'll keep that in mind." Someone had sprayed the words 'Mage Pride' over the cracks as if to fix the damage.

Varric tipped his imaginary hat, getting a chuckle out of Hawke and let his legs carry him towards home. Something made him turn around and catch a glimpse of Hawke leaning in the doorway as she waved him goodbye. Between one moment and the next, he felt thrust back into a younger version of himself, younger than he ever cared to remember being. The night he truly spent with his one and only love. He had brought her home, up to her doorstep and standing on the threshold he wasn't allowed to cross. She still wore her shimmering dress and the night's excitement warm in her cheeks. They had kissed with no witness but the stars. He had gone back to his car, she had waited until he was inside and he had waited until she had closed the door safely behind herself.

There had been an aftertaste to that moment, bittersweet and longing mixed with crisp night air.

This moment pretended to be a déjà-vu to that one, with Hawke standing in the doorway and Varric walking away without knowing if her cheeks were warm. But the stars were watching all the same.

 

* * *

 

The job was a shitshow.

Varric was convinced this was the worst day of his life. Carta thugs, really? His brother couldn't have hired someone better to kill him off, like the Coterie?. He had barely caught a glimpse of two of them carrying the boxes of jewelry out of the warehouse before the others had opened fire on them.

He and Hawke only barely managed to duck behind a deep freezer, big enough to hold a person or five, depending on how you chopped them. The bullets were slowly wearing holes into the kitchen appliance and Varric was down to his last five rounds. Next to him, Hawke's own gun clicked empty and she fell back against their cover. The empty magazine slid out and was replaced with the only spare Hawke had brought in one smooth movement that spoke of experience.

"Better make it count!" Hawke shouted over the ruckus and began returning fire.

Varric leaned up from their cover just in time to see Carver do the same from across the warehouse floor. The bullet that hit him came so suddenly that he didn't even seem to realize it at first. He took a couple of pot shots at their attackers before his hand slowly closed over his shoulder where the blood was darkening his shirt.

"Carver!" Hawke's voice ripped him out of his stupor. His face contorted in pain and he fell to his knees, gun dropping to the floor, useless.

Hawke tried to bolt over the freezer but he managed to grab her arm just before she threw herself into the hail of bullets aimed at their way. She struggled against his hold, dropping her dead-weight of a gun.

"Let go of me, Varric," she hissed, but he tightened his hold. Letting her go would only result in more blood and he hoped to get at least one of the siblings out. He should never have dragged any of them into his mess, knowing it was a set-up. Hawke turned her head to glare at him but her eyes were pleading.

When he didn't relent, she took action. With her height advantage Hawke towered easily over him when she stood up suddenly. Before he could shout and drag her back down, he was transfixed on her arm. She thrust it out towards the nearest group of thugs and fire licked at her skin, streaming out of every pore and flowing into her hand from where it flew straight where she pointed it at. The fire exploded on impact with one of the attackers, catching clothes and skin alike as well as the two people closest to him. Three others managed to stumble away with only singed clothing.

But they weren't safe. Hawke used his surprise to tug herself free and round their cover. The men putting out the fire on their clothes didn't get a chance to recover for long. Lightning crackled and he could feel the thunder in the air when it struck one thug, trying to escape. It jumped from one body to the next, making them spasm and crumble.

The last of them made one last ditch effort to flank Hawke. She turned, swiping her arm in a half circle . From the ground spouted ice in sharp spikes, following her guidance, driving through his body like butter before melting away in an instant.

It was all over in the blink of an eye.

Hawke was already rushing to her brother's side, dropping to her knees beside him. She clasped her hands over his bleeding shoulder while Varric was still busy staring at the bodies in the corner that the fire hadn't eaten away completely yet.

"Come on, Carver. You can't leave me alone with mother and Gamlen. I'll go mad within the week," He was distantly aware of Hawke's frantic voice over the sound of Isabela's footsteps drawing closer. She came to a stop beside him, watching the flames.

"Holy shit." Isabela said quietly and Varric couldn't agree more. He drew his gaze away from the carnage and looked to Hawke and Carver. Her hand was glowing with the blue light of a healing spell. He hadn't seen it in forever. The Circle used to provide healing services when the local hospital was overburdened or for people without healthcare before Meredith put a stop to it, saying it was too dangerous to let mages use their powers on people.

Hawke realized her audience, or maybe she had heard them, and turned her head around. Her eyes were wide and breath still going fast. Carver put one weak hand on her healing ones, muttering something inaudible.

"If you want to try and kill me, now is your chance." Hawke told them bluntly.

Isabela visibly recoiled. "Why the fuck would we do that?" She asked, but Hawke wasn't looking at her. Hawke had her eyes trained on Varric, who had yet to utter a single word.

He tried to read her blank expression and saw fear. Fear of him? Of what he would do? Fear of herself? Varric was distantly aware that he should feel betrayed about not being entrusted with her secret. He was also aware that that was mostly his wounded pride complaining about not figuring it out himself. In hindsight it was quite obvious.

When he saw Hawke's eyes scanning the warehouse floor, looking for an escape, Varric realized he should probably say something.

"Isabela, get the files to the penthouse. I won't have this be for nothing." He said giving her a look that was also a warning. "We need to get Junior to a doctor."

Hawke didn't relax when he approached, not when Isabela grabbed what they had come for and left for her boat. Only when he gently helped Carver sit up did she join in the effort.

 

* * *

 

The Lit Lantern was a small shop in Darktown, arguably the worst part of Kirkwall. It sold Fereldan imports, despite the fact that Ferelden was a day ship travel away- two days by car, with the new underground tunnel. It had everything from plates decorated with pictures of mabari to traditional Ferelden vegetables, which were cabbage and little else. Potatoes, sometimes.

But the Lit Lantern wasn't known for its wares. The little gas lamp over the door illuminated the dark streets like a beacon guiding them.

Hawke had put it upon herself to carry her brother's weight by herself leaving Varric to open the door for them to enter. Carver made little noise, he had passed out as they had gotten into Lowtown and had been worryingly quiet since then. The floorboards creaked in unison with the bell ringing above the door as they entered. He was surprised to hear it at all as he felt almost deaf to any sound after all the gunfire.

The door behind the counter opened while Varric's eyes were still adjusting to the dark. The woman behind it didn't bother turning on the lights, but it could only be Lirene from the way she stood.

"We are closed," She said, confirming her identity to him as Hawke grunted under the weight of her brother.

"We've come to see the Sanctum," He responded carefully, and prayed to the Maker that Anders was home.

Lirene paused, her expression unreadable with her face cast in shadows, but from experience Varric knew she was sizing up Hawke. Determining if she could be trusted or if she was a Templar or a police officer in disguise.

It felt like an eternity before she gestured them inside.

The tiny hallway beyond the door was occupied by Anders, who had only just pushed some scrubs over his shirt. He blinked at Varric before rushing to Carver's side and taking some off his weight from Hawke.

"What happened?" He asked, as he guided them towards a sparse operating room that obviously doubled as a kitchen.

"Gunshot to the shoulder," Varric explained as they heaved Carver up on the gurney in the middle. Anders pried away the shirt stuck to his skin and shot a look at Hawke before looking at Varric. There was a silent communication happening between them that Varric wasn't allowed to be part of, but Hawke cut through it before he could determine it's meaning.

"I tried to heal it. It's not my strong suit." Hawke admitted and Anders nodded.

"The bullet is still inside then?" He asked and walked over to the sink to wash his hands and arms. From another door Karl joined them with a tray of surgical instruments in his hands. Varric was mildly happy to see the other man. Last time he had, Varric had paid off some very expensive Templars to forget about him.

Hawke was stricken. She had only taken her eyes off her brother to stare at Karl, specifically the sun-shaped burn on his forehead.

"Yes." She said, her eyebrows drawn together in distress.

Anders grabbed a scalpel from the tray and put one hand on Carver's forehead.

Anders hesitated with the scalpel sitting on the puckered pink skin of the wound and looked up. " Karl, would you show them the waiting room?" His eyes were kind with sympathy.

"Of course." Karl's voice was as monotone as ever as he put the tray down and gently herded them outside, closing the door firmly behind them.

Varric already knew the way and walked in front with Karl at their backs. Hawke put up a mild resistance, stopping in the tiny corridor and looking back at the door as if she could see through it. He couldn't help but wonder for a second if she actually could.

They entered the waiting room, a small living room with a old and lumpy three seater couch, a couple of plastic chairs and a television sitting on a tiny table that played the news at a low volume.

"Please wait here." Karl told them, soft and gently as he did everything. "We will inform you about the patient's condition when we are done." He said and left them by themselves.

Hawke made a beeline for one of the plastic chairs and all but collapsed onto it. Varric reluctantly took the one next to her, not knowing if he needed to be close to her for her benefit or his own.

"You took this better than I'd hoped." Hawke told him quietly, staring at nothing.

Varric looked at his wringing hands before focusing on the dirty green floor. "I always expected I'd die because Bartrand screwed me over. This just came earlier than I expected." He said and the words tasted like ash in his mouth. His insides were burning with fury and grief and disappointment all mashing together until they were intangible and left him numb.

On a table by the wall, a tiny TV started playing the news of the day.

Hawke shook her head. "No, I mean-" She wiggled her fingers, letting a few sparks fly before lowering her gaze. There was exhaustion visible in the line of her slumped shoulders and the shiver of her knees. The adrenaline was leaving him as well, dropping him from its height.

"I had my suspicions," Varric said and came to sit by her at the table. "you’re a bit too spindly for Athenril to value your service so much."

"Knew I should have worked out more," Hawke said, a pale excuse for a smile lost on her lips.

They sat in silence as Hawke picked at the blood under her nails and Varric watched Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard appear on the TV screen. The broken thing displayed her white uniform and bright blond hair in a soft pink.

"Most people don't react like that." She admitted quietly.

"Oh?" He asked but could only imagine what she meant. Mages had been uncommon ever since the Mage Templar Wars in something:something Dragon where most of them had been killed, leaving little to no time to reproduce. Those that did manage to mutate the genes necessary for the talent to manipulate the world were shipped off to the nearest Circle of Magi or did the smart thing and flee to Tevinter, where the Mage Rights Movement had never occurred.

Hawke pulled her lips into an ugly smile. "The last person that found out forced us to leave town." She shook her head, never looking away from her hands. Her nails were still scraping on the flaking blood.

"If not for Gamlen we'd probably have starved somewhere on the streets," She shook her head a slightly. "Never had much money between all of us but my father's hospital bills ate up everything," She said and Varric listened. Hawke hadn't spoken much of her family, despite going through such lengths for it. He felt like an intruder.

"The twins had just turned thirteen when Gamlen had me off work some gambling debts. Then it was because he could pay some some other debts and after that it was something else. When Beth and Carver got older, they wanted to help," Varric found himself staying oddly still during her tale. She had never really spoken of Carver's twin sister. He specifically didn't know that Bethany Hawke was a scholarship student of a private college in Tevinter, which was in no way a mage only college.

Hawke laughed weakly and put her face into her hands. "This is the second time I've gotten my siblings shot." Her laughter bordered on hysterical.

Varric took it as his cue to put a hand on her shoulder. "And they are both fine, Hawke. You saved Carver's life today." Hawke dropped her hands back into her lap.

"He is still going to resent me." She responded, resigned.

"And that is different from usual how?" Varric joked, glad for the little genuine smile Hawke managed.

"Right." She said and laid her head into her hands. "I want to sleep for a million years,"

Karl had joined them at the side of the room. He stared silently at the television and at Meredith, still delivering her speech. The subtitles suggested it was something about mages, as usual. It seemed Varric couldn't escape them wherever he went. He leaned back into the plastic chair as much as he could and stared at nothing, hoping for the best. Karl crossed the room silently until he stood right in front of the tiny table, the television barely going above his knees.

Hawke lifted her head and watched with him as Karl took the TV into both hands, ripped at it until the socket unplugged and threw the device against the wall. Both he and Hawke jumped to their feet and could only stare as Karl picked it up again only to throw it back, leaving two dents in the dry wall. He stood there, among shattered glass and plastic and was still his eerily calm self that Varric had gotten to know.

Lirene burst into the room in a hurry, startling Varric once again. By the end of the night he was going to have a heart attack he just knew it. She took in the scene before she sighed and walked over to Karl. Taking his shoulders with her hands, she searched for his gaze.

"I apologize for the mess I have made." He said. "I will clean it up."

Lirene shook her head. "It's alright, leave it. What happened?" She asked kindly.

Karl stared at the shattered display of the television where Meredith's form had disappeared. "They lied." He said simply and Lirene nodded, as if in understanding.

Varric couldn't wait for this night to be over.


	2. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woking title for this chapter was "The not so excellent road trip"

"Don't forget we are going to meet that guy in two days," Hawke told him, and started snapping her fingers. "The white haired, elf-ish guy. What's his name again?"

Varric looked at her from the other side of the car and lifted an eyebrow. He had almost managed to fall asleep in the uncomfortable seat. "How would I know?"

She shot him a look that he didn't bother reacting to. Finally she shrugged and put her eyes back onto the rural road before she drove them into a ditch.

"Eh, he'll introduce himself."

"Why are we meeting him again?"

"Now that Carver is gone with the wind, I thought we could use some muscle." She said nonchalant. Carver had packed his bags to Tevinter to visit the other Hawke sibling, without adding a return date. It was grinding more on Hawke than she bothered to show, he knew.

"I thought Aveline was our muscle." He said.

"She is, but she is also captain of the police force now and I quote 'doesn't have time to keep picking up my messes'." Hawke mocked the woman in an comically low voice.

Varric chuckled along.

"So where exactly are we going?" Varric asked and sank deeper into the seat of Hawke's car. The cushions were finally worn down enough that Varric could feel a piece of metal dig into his back and his ass might as well be scrubbing along the asphalt. He had no idea why Hawke hadn't gotten rid of this piece of garbage immediately after the big job.

"There is a clan of Dalish at Sundermount and I have to deliver something." Hawke told him. Her finger drummed along to the song on the radio - the only new thing in the entire car. It was terribly out of place, sleek and shiny back in midst of grayish plastic. The blue glow it emitted hurt Varric's eyes in the dark, and he didn't know how it wasn't annoying for Hawke to drive with. At least the sound came crystal clear.

Varric shot a look over his shoulder to the backseat. "What exactly are we delivering?" He said and looked at the road ahead again. "I’m only asking so I know what I have to lie about."

Hawke dug into the collar of her shirt and fished out a pendant. It was a simple round amulet that fit neatly into her palm, a leafless tree was the only modest decoration on it.

Varric looked from the amulet to Hawke. "Is it drugs?" He joked.

Hawke smiled and stuck the amulet back under her shirt.

"Not that I am aware of. It's a favor for someone. I never got around to do it before and figured now would be a good time as any."

Varric peered out of the window and up into the dark night sky. "Now as in the middle of the night?"

"That didn't bother you when I asked you to come with me in the first place?" She asked with an eyebrow raised. Varric shrugged.

"What can I say, it just not fun seeing Isabela cheat the pants off someone if you aren't there."

"Only because she focuses her evil powers on Anders when I am not there."

"There is no reason to use any sort of powers to make Anders lose at cards. I’m sure your dog could beat Anders at cards." Muffin was after all, an excellent card player.

Hawke stopped the car on the side of a dirt road and shut off the motor.

Varric glanced at her. "If you brought me out here just to kill me, I will be a little disappointed."

"Oh please, I would murder you in your apartment and make it look like suicide, obviously." Hawke told him, one hand on her chest and Varric couldn't contain a chuckle before she got out of the car.

He wasn't entirely convinced about her intentions. The betrayal of Bartrand still festered in the back of his mind, even a year later. Maybe Hawke was walking around her car and opened the trunk to get out a shovel so he could dig his own grave first. Well, he had to admit he was being a bit overly dramatic.

When Hawke pulled a blanket and pillows out of the back of the car and placed them on the field next to them, he almost wished for a shovel. He opened the sunroof with a crank of all things, because her car had not gotten the luxury of anything of this century and poked his head out.

"What are you doing?" He asked and squinted at Hawke who made herself comfortable in the dirt.

She nodded towards the sky, crossed her ankles over each other and her arms behind her head. "Meteor shower tonight, come on."

Varric looked at her, then at the ground and then at the sky. The interior lights of the car had blinded him for any stars that might be visible tonight. In Varric's experience they weren't impressive. Even from the penthouse on a clear nights he could see barely enough to count them on one hand.

"Don't we have to be somewhere?"

"Half an hour, Varric. We don't have to be there until morning." Hawke said. "Either you join me or you sit in the car because I am going to watch regardless."

With a huff Varric sat back in his seat. His fervor made the car creak and whatever metal piece was loose in the upholstery dug into his spine like a knife.

The ground couldn't be half as uncomfortable as this, Varric decided and with a deep sigh, climbed out of the car.

He sat down on the ground, on top of a itchy looking blanket and sighed deeply again, just for emphasis and craned his neck to look up. Now that his eyes were getting used to the dark he could actually see the stars that peppered the dark night sky, many more than he had ever seen in Kirkwall.

"Huh." He said, staring in wonder.

"The lights in the city make it hard to see them." Hawke explained. She looked right at home next to a dry patch of weeds. Varric mostly tried not to think about all the bugs crawling over them at the moment. "In Lothering we had the same view from our roof. Our father would sit with us and make up names for the constellations." Hawke told him with a smile. She watched him carefully as she said it, as if she were waiting for something and for once, Varric didn't know what she was expecting.

When he failed to respond the way she had wanted it was her turn to sigh. "Lie down, I brought all the stuff so you wouldn't complain." She tugged at the back of his collar and Varric went without protest. It was easier to observe the sky lying down, he had to admit.

Slowly the magic of nature revealed itself to him. The longer he stared, the more stars he could make out. It wasn't the occasional white dot breaking apart the monotonous black of the night, this was a sea of lights, shimmering in different colors and intensities and making the sky shine dark to bright blue. It was breathtaking even before he noticed the first shooting star.

"There. Did you see it?" Hawke shuffled close and pointed her finger at the sky and Varric barely caught the last seconds of the light before it snuffed out. When his smile broke into a short laugh he blamed it on Hawke's hair tickling the side of his face.

He didn't even notice the stones and dirt digging into his spine, or think about how his shoes were going to be ruined at the end of this. The night had captured his complete attention and for the first time, Varric understood the appeal of the stargazing.

"Do you see those three stars over there?" Hawke asked him and pointed a little to their left, her shoulder bumping against his as her arm loomed over him.

In the general direction of her pointing were indeed three stars forming a triangle.

"My dad called that the 'Magician's Hat'. A mage, dressed in fancy robes and obsessed with the sky, reached out to reap the stars like fruit. He managed to grab one and in revenge, the sky grabbed his hat." She explained, her voice one part childlike wonder, one part self-mockery. A laugh made her shoulders shake and she shook her head. "Can't believe I bought that nonsense." Hawke added.

When he turned his head to look at her, she kept her gaze fixed to the sky. "Well, it's very good nonsense." He said.

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes and, Maker, in the dark they were nearly the same color as the stars. A sly grin played around her lips. "Want me to tell you some more?"

"I insist." He said and could barely contain the gasp, when Hawke's face lit up. Varric couldn't fathom being so excited to share some silly detail from his past with a -stranger. Business partner? Friend? He could use any of those labels to describe his relationship to Hawke. She knew barely anything about him, just the way he liked it while he knew almost everything there was to know about her, just the way he liked it. They had worked together, even more now after the Job, capital J. It was most comfortable to think of her as a colleague. No different from Corff or any of his runners around the city. Then again, he wouldn't be lying in the middle of a field surrounded by nature of all things, if he didn't think of Hawke as more than a colleague. If he didn't trust her not to shank him for his wallet.

She pointed at another cluster of stars and Varric could barely distinguish them from the clutter of white around and behind them. "'The Big Dragon'", she started and Varric couldn't bring himself to interrupt her. "Named so after a dragon my father, allegedly, fought in Orlais somewhere." Hawke pointed a bit lower. "Accompanied by 'The Little Dragon', whom he swears he did not slay but instead watched hatch from an egg."

Varric could vividly imagine an old man, a child in each arm and another piled on top, sitting on the roof of a barn and making up stories for his family. Twisting and inventing wild stories around his life, mostly because he could. Children were always the best audience as they believed everything, no matter how wild.

They laid there for far longer than half an hour, as Hawke told him every silly name she still remembered and the legends attached it them until she ran out and had Varric make up new ones. Every time a shooting star made its way across the sky the first one to see it would point it out to the other. For points, naturally. Varric was leading with twelve. He lost track of time somewhere between the new constellations 'That old shoelace' and 'Falcon's Feather'.

The time only made itself known when he felt himself getting drowsy and pliant. His voice slurred until he couldn't tell if he had said the words correctly.

Another shooting star got his limited attention and his arm thrust up into the sky, pointing at it. "Thirteen. You are lagging behind, Hawke." He mumbled and looked over to her.

Hawke was half curled in on herself facing him, shoes rubbing dirt and soil on the blanket, deep asleep. Varric couldn't look away. Her eyes moved behind her eyelids as she dreamed.

Dreaming. Another concept Varric had never understood. As someone from a very traditional dwarven family, he had inherited the absence of dreams along with his short build and his business sense. When he slept, some might say he slept like a stone . There had been several studies on the fact that people of dwarven heritage had little to no dreams, every single one pointing to a different myth or biological difference as the culprit. Whenever the subject came up people tended to look at him with pity, as if he was missing out on something great by not hallucinating every night. When people tried to explain to him why that was a good thing, it was as if they were trying to describe a color he couldn't see. He had no reference and therefore didn't miss it in his life.

Observing Hawke sleeping next to him, her eyes moving and fingers twitching, mouth moving ever so slightly, Varric wondered if she dreamed about magicians with big hats riding a flock of dragons through the sky and found himself smiling at the thought.

Varric's eyes started to drift shut on their own accord and he was too tired to care about bugs or dirt or the cold.

He was in love with Hawke.

The thought slammed into him like a bucket of ice water and his eyes flew open. Any trace of exhaustion left his body in an instant. He was in love with Hawke. Hawke who still slept soundly next to him, none the wiser.

"Well, shit." He croaked out, his voice hoarse from all the talking and lying wide awake.

 

* * *

 

"Mother is trying to get me a husband." Hawke said suddenly, and Varric just barely caught the book slipping out of his fingers. He shot a glance at her, with her dirty shoes propped up on his desk idly flipping through his paperwork. He should be more bothered about that, but then he did the same thing in her office. At least he didn't have anything important lying around in the penthouse.

"Really?" He asked and focused back on sorting his books according to title into the bookshelf.

"Yeah. Lord what-his-face, son of Lady why-would-I-give-a-shit. All old friends of my mother who only now found out that we were back in town after we moved back into the estate." Hawke told him with a posh orlesian accent and threw one of his papers over her shoulder.

"Maybe you should tell your mother that you aren't interested in their parts." He said, and wondered a little self-pityingly if Hawke and Isabela were still sleeping together.

Hawke snorted. "I couldn't care less about their parts. It's their personalities that I can't stand. All snotty and pampered." She cocked her head. "A lot like you actually."

He gave her a raised eyebrow in response.

"Only without all your charm and good looks to make up for it. Of course." She added and Varric rolled his eyes with a smile.

"She will stop eventually. Or run out of available candidates, whichever comes first." He told her and Hawke hummed under her breath. She didn't seem enthusiastic about either option.

"Who is Andvar Garen?" Hawke asked suddenly, peering down at his desk.

Varric hesitated only for a second, before he finished putting his book back on the shelve. "Mh?" He asked back.

She lifted the stray letter up and made it crinkle in her hands. "Andvar Garen in the Ostwick Sanatorium? Since when do we know people in Ostwick?"

"I know people everywhere in Thedas, Hawke." Varric told her. "He's nobody you need to concern yourself with." He said before he could tell her that Andvar Garen was fake name for Bartrand. That he had tracked him down without her and found him half out of his mind. That he couldn't kill him when the guy couldn't remember his own name much less any betrayal on his part.

Hawke looked at him from under her fringe of hair, head still angled at the paper in her hand. She seemed expectant, waiting for him to elaborate.

He only lifted his eyebrow at her and she sighed. The letter was dropped back on his desk along with the rest of the papers.

"You coming? Aveline wants me to keep that Emeric guy off her back." Hawke told him as she walked past. Her voice was hard, and if Varric didn't know better he would think she were mad at him.

 

* * *

 

The short version was this: Hawke slit the murderer's throat.

But nobody was really interested in the short version.

The long version was this:

Varric had seen many people die. Most dying by his own hands, no less. None of those experiences quite lived up to the scene before him. Before his very eyes, Hawke had turned into a savage creature of rage and hate that hadn't cared about the weak attempts of an old man to defend himself. She had lunged, knife in one hand and fire in the other. The cave filled with the smell of burning flesh and the pained screams in seconds. Aveline hadn't even had the chance to take her gun out of her holster.

"You don't understand!" The man shouted. Varric felt sick and he wanted to pretend it was the smell mixed with that of the sewers.

Hawke had the man pinned under her, flame clasped over his eyes as he struggled. "My eyes! I have to see her or it was all for nothing!" He screeched.

Fenris next to him was a coiled spring, hands fisted at his sides and yet he didn't move. Hawke had her back to them but she watched him struggle before she drove the knife across his throat. The first contact let the man stop in his rambling only to scream. With the next it turned to gurgles as Hawke ripped into his throat, going for the windpipe rather than the vein. Even hidden by her back it was more brutal than anything Varric ever inflicted upon anyone.

It didn't seem like enough.

Her arms were covered in blood by the time the man stopped moving. It dripped from her knife and stained her clothes as much as it did the ground.

Varric had avoided looking at Leandra but now there was nothing else to look at anymore.

Leandra stumbled towards her daughter. He wanted to believe she only stumbled because of the wedding dress getting tangled between her feet and not because of the mismatched limbs sewn to together. It was impossible to tell where Leandra ended or began, only her face was unmistakable even if the eyes were wrong.

She walked - fell - into Hawke's waiting arms and dragged them both to the soiled ground.

"I knew you would come." It was still Leandra's voice but too weak too frail. Varric had written enough tragedies to knew the next part already.

Hawke's voice was equally fragile. "You know me. I always save the day."

"She needs a doctor," Aveline said, frantically. Still willing to fight. It was Fenris who shook his head.

"It's too late." He said, as he stopped her from leaving with a hand on her wrist. Aveline didn't argue or fight his hold and that was evidence enough of the truth in his words.

Varric wondered if they ever had a chance to save her at all. Was there any version to this story where Leandra was still safe at home? Waiting for them to come home after a rough night on the city streets with a cup of tea and kind words.

"Don't fret, darling." Her hand reached out to Hawke's face and failed her midway through. Her fingers were wrong, not the long slender ones she used to share with her daughter. Hawke took them between her own all the same. Whatever her next words were, Varric was too far away to catch them but their impact made Hawke shiver as if something inside her had shattered.

"I'll be fine, Mother." She said, her cheerful voice trembling.

He thought Leandra spoke a few more words, ushered in between her last breaths before her head slumped back and all tension left her body. Bile rose in his throat when he recognized the feeling swelling in his mind as relief.

Hawke didn't move or react. For a second it appeared as if she had departed as well, laying down her life at the feet of the woman who raised her. After a second though, the shivering returned.

Varric was the first to move. He walked around them, not able to dismiss the thought of blood straining his boots from his mind and crouched down in front of Hawke.

She didn't see him. Her eyes were fixed on a point at the wall unseeing and numb. The blood had splattered up to her face.

"Hawke." She didn't acknowledge him. "We need to leave." Her hands tightened on her mother. Hawke pulled Leandra closer into her lap and lowered her head to look at her.

Aveline knelt down next to him. Her face was tight with grief and pain, and Varric felt a sharp reminder that she had known Leandra for much longer and better than Varric ever had. All he had ever done was play a role for her and now she wouldn't get the chance to know that most of what he told her were nothing more than stories he had made up. She wouldn't get to do anything ever again.

"I will take care of her." She told Hawke gently and reached out to take Hawke's hands off her mother's corpse. The red smears she left on the pristine wedding dress were obscene.

Hawke squeezed her eyes shut and tugged weakly against Aveline's hold. Fenris came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders as Varric felt useless. Slowly, she let Aveline lift her mother away. She didn't cry so much as whimper with her eyes dry and her face twisted. Varric would have preferred tears over her silent anguish. If not for Fenris lifting her, Hawke's legs wouldn't have allowed her to stand.

"Get her out of here." Aveline told the two of them as she gently placed Leandra on the ground and shut her eyes. When she stood again, she was a police captain again.

"This is Captain Vallen-" He heard her say into a crackling radio as he and Fenris struggled to drag Hawke away.

 

* * *

 

Bodhan was still awake by the time they made it to Hawke's home. Any question and any hope he might have had died in his throat when he saw them appear. Fenris took him aside while Varric took advantage of Hawke's momentum to get her into her bathroom.

She stood still in the middle of the room where he lead her.

"Take your shirt and pants off," He told her, and drenched a washcloth. Hawke did as he told her mechanically. No smart comment, not eyebrow wiggle about him wanting to get her naked before buying her dinner. She just shed her ruined clothing and stood in the pile of her jeans until he pushed her to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

If the cold of the ceramic on her naked thighs startled her, she didn't show it.

Fenris slid into the room quietly and gathered her pants, shirt and shoes into a plastic bag.

Varric carefully washed the blood away from Hawke's face. A spot just by her hairline, one next to her eye, another underneath. A spray at her chin and on her throat, ending where the collar of her shirt stopped it.

Her hands were worse, the red staining her skin as if she had slipped into a glove. It stuck to her palms and up to her elbows but was worst under her fingernails. He did his best with the washcloth, but that was something only a shower would be able to get rid of. A shower and a lot of alcohol if Varric was being realistic. It was closer to the truth that nothing would ever rid Hawke of tonight.

When her hands were as clean as he was going to get them, he tossed the washcloth into the bag with the rest of her dirty clothes and washed his own hands. Weird, how quickly the soap turned pink.

Fenris tied the bag closed and took it. "I'll get rid of this before I go back to the Hanged Man." He said and met Varric's eyes in the mirror. Both of them looked at Hawke at the same time. She sat there in her underwear, elbows resting on her knees, eyes still staring at nothing in the distance.

"Too bad you had to get Hawke home after she got sick from the food," Fenris added slowly, and Varric turned his words over in his head. Not the best alibi in history but the Hanged Man was infamous for its terrible food. It was believable if nothing else, and Fenris would make sure the others told the same story.

He nodded. "Tell Corff to put tonight's drinks on my tab when you talk to him." The bartender was used to Varric's shifty business just as Varric was used to his fair prices. Silence was never cheap, but everyone working at the Hanged Man knew that keeping Varric happy was good for business.

Fenris nodded back and hesitated in the door, looking like he wanted to say something else but Varric couldn't imagine what. He was hardly one for kind words. Just as he turned to leave Hawke spoke, startling them both.

"Looks like I owe you two more sovereigns." She said, her voice hollow. Varric felt like weeping. Fenris shot him a look. They both knew she wasn’t talking about gambling debts.

“Don’t mention it.” Fenris said before he left.

 

* * *

 

"I just think it would do you good to talk about it." Varric told her a few days later. He hadn't avoided her as much as he had tried to come to terms with the horror. Sure, he hadn't been exactly close to Leandra but what had been done to her still made him shudder, and he couldn't exactly load his issues on Hawke when she was dealing with worse. So he had kept his distance and sought her out as soon as Varric felt under control again.

Hawke's hands tightened on the steering wheel and she took a shuddering breath. For a second he thought that she might start crying before he realised she was furious.

"Okay," She muttered between gritted teeth, and slammed on the breaks. The car behind them honked and passed them with skidding wheels and curses flying at them from the window. Hawke paid them no mind, she drove mercilessly to the side of the road and stopped the car. The seatbelt cut into Varric's throat when they finally came to a stop. Before he could regain his composure and ask what the hell was wrong, Hawke killed the ignition and turned to him.

"Have we ever talked about Bartrand?" She asked, eyes wide with anger and nostrils flared. "Did you ever tell me about you family? Or anything about yourself, for that matter?"

Varric opened his mouth to reply but couldn't find the words. Surely he had told Hawke something about himself before. He must have had.

"Do we ever talk about something other than the job or the people we work with?" She demanded again and Varric was scrambling. Not a single thing came to his mind.

"No, we don't." Hawke spit out. "I don't know your favourite drink or how you actually take your coffee or what's your favourite colour is. I don't even know your birthday."

Again he struggled with a retort. Of course Hawke knew his birthday. Right? He must have mentioned it sometime. She had asked him a few years ago and he must have told her. Thinking about it, he might have made a crack about ageless beauty and hadn't mentioned it again.

"I know nothing about you other than the things I found out by accident." Hawke hissed at him. He would have almost preferred if she had yelled and screamed at him. Blunt force over cutting like a knife. "I don't think we are the kind of friends that talk about their feelings and cry in each other's arms. So. Leave. Me. Alone." She stared him down for a few heartbeats before she fell back into her seat, her chest heaving. The words felt wrong in his chest even if Varric knew that they were true.

Perhaps because he didn't want them to be.

Varric had found himself often at this moment in any relationship, and usually watched on as they passed quietly. The moment where companions or colleagues grew into friends by committing to it fully. He would have to trust Hawke to take a piece of himself he was going to offer and hope she didn't snatch it and ran off without giving him something in return. Even though he owed her more than enough, for everything she had revealed of herself, for everything they had been through. Still, it felt like a fool's bargain.

"It hurt," He admitted before his brain caught up with his decision and Hawke's hand froze on the car keys, the little copper flower ornament dangling between her fingers. "It hurt when Bartrand betrayed me."

"Don't." She warned.

"No. You're right," Varric swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I should have talked about it sooner." He should have talked about important things sooner. Or at all. Maybe then he wouldn't feel like such an asshole .

The car seat suddenly felt like a dentist chair, strapping him in, but he pressed the discomfort down. He looked at Hawke's profile, where she stared straight ahead and took some of her strength.

"My father died young. I hardly remember him now. My mother didn't take it well," The words felt like barbwire on his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked about his mother or his father with someone other than Bartrand. "She took to the bottle and Bartrand- It was just us, for the longest time." He remembered how often he had to check that his mother was still breathing and what a relief it had been to find that she wasn't one day, her body finally following her mind. Hawke's hand fell into her lap and it gave him a bit more courage. He hadn't lost her yet.

"I supported him while he took over the family business. He was my older brother and still a pain in the ass on a good day but he was my brother, you know?" He gave her a sad grin, and her lips twitched. Hawke nodded but didn't say anything.

"I know I said I saw it coming, but not like this. I knew Bartrand would drop me at one point, because he couldn't stand that I was better than him. I would have never thought he would actually try to kill me. Frame me and get me landed in jail, maybe but nothing lethal." Varric shook his head. "It's hard to think of him as a monster when I knew him as a brother for so much longer, no matter how hard I try. I hate him. I do now. But before that I loved him."

Varric felt like gasping for breath after he finished, but settled for huffing a breath through his teeth. His hands were clammy.

Hawke sighed next to him and he looked to her.

The seat nearly swallowed her whole and she fumbled with the steering wheel to give her hands something to do. Varric waited for her to speak but also prepared just in case she didn't. He wouldn't begrudge her.

When she finally did speak, her voice was quiet. "I messed up."

Varric didn't dare to interrupt her. He reminded himself to breathe while he waited for her to elaborate.

"My mother died angry with me. And now she can't even yell at me anymore." Hawke gave a single soundless laugh. "I was with my father when he died. I told her to go home, get some rest, take a shower. I stayed with him at the hospital."

Outside the cars rushed past them as the sun went down slowly. The streetlights flickered to light, streaming in through the roof and tinting them orange.

"He died within half an hour, as if he had just been waiting for her to leave. His last words to me where that I had to take care of them." She said and her lips pulled into an ugly smile. "Messed that up spectacularly."

Hawke pressed the balls of her hands into her eyes before she dropped them again. Her eyes were red but not spilling over yet.

"I don't think she ever forgave me for that," She said and Varric almost asked what Leandra should have forgiven her for but stopped himself before opening his mouth. Their relationship had been complicated for as long as he had known Hawke and no doubt there were many things he had no idea about.

"When I got Bethany shot, she didn't talk to me for a week. With Carver it was only three days. Guess she had gotten used to me disappointing her." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I destroyed my entire family."

Varric breached the space between their seats and grabbed her hand with his own. His own was still sweaty and cold but Hawke didn't seem to mind, didn't react at all. She just sat there unmoving.

"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see what he did to her and-" Her brow furrowed and she opened her eyes again. Varric could imagine all too well what was keeping her from sleeping. At least Varric couldn't dream, Hawke didn't have that luxury. "I wonder at what point, when he was cutting her open, did she know I wasn't going to make it? At what point did she know I failed her again?"

Hawke blinked rapidly and leaned her head back, looking out of the roof and into the light above.

"Happy now?" She asked, turning her gaze to him.

He just looked at her. Her skin, more pale and sickly than usual, the thick circles under her eyes and the water brimming in them but not yet overflowing. He had never seen her cry but that was the closest he had ever come.

"I didn't know Leandra very well." He started and looked down where his hand was still engulfing hers. They were tiny, compared to his. Nearly disappeared completely. "But I know she was proud of you."

Hawke snorted, ugly and painful but Varric tightened the grip around her hand. "It's true," He insisted and angled his body towards hers.

"Do you remember when I picked you up when he were hunting down that woman for Fenris?"

Hawke frowned. "Hadrianna?"

"That's the one. You took forever to come down because you were still hungover, and Leandra and I talked while I waited." Varric searched for her eyes and held her gaze. He licked his lips. "She told me how proud she was of you. That you got her parents house back and that you were providing for the family, the way she never had. She had put a terrible burden on you, when Malcolm died she couldn't lift it from your shoulders anymore, but she was so proud of the woman you had become."

Hawke's face twisted and her hand returned the iron grip he had on them.

"I'm sorry she didn't get a chance to tell you that herself." He told her earnest.

She dragged a hand across her face. No tears still but close, always near the edge but never falling.

"Man, I need a drink." She said and laughed. Varric let her infect him and chuckled in return.

"Hanged Man?", he asked. "I'm buying."

 

* * *

 

The windshield exploded inwards in the hail of bullets and Hawke swerved to the left in an attempt to dodge them, nearly driving them into a ditch. The tires skid along the asphalt, making the passengers inside the car shake. She grabbed hold of the steering wheel with a snarl, turning them back on the road. The cracks in the glass made it impossible to see anything but the newly added holes. Hawke thrust her open palm towards the windshield and it flew up and over the car in an arch.

"Merrill!" She shouted to the elf in the backseat and steered the car into an alley with one hand on the wheel. Merrill leaned over Varric's seat and spread her hands across the empty frame of the windshield and moments later it was covered in a thin layer of ice.

When she fell back into her seat Varric turned around. "Everybody alright?" He asked. Merrill gave him a hurried nod and Isabela raised a shaking thumb up.

"Just a scratch." She said and checked the small wound on her calf. Varric felt his arm sting when he moved but it was hardly enough to concern him right now.

"Hawke?" He asked and turned to their driver.

She had one hand on the steering wheel, turning the car around another corner only just missing the side of a building. Her other hand was clutched on the lower right of her stomach.

"All good." She told him, showing her teeth. "I think it went through." Her fingers sneaked around her side and to her back. "Yep, there is the exit wound." She announced triumphant.

Varric stared at her with an open mouth as she continued driving until they were back on the open roads. They were deserted with the chaos in the city and too open for Varric's liking, but if they wanted to make it to the docks there was no faster way. Anyone trying to kill them could open fire from the rooftops at any point.

"Would you take the wheel for a second? I need both hands for this." She asked and Varric complied without a word. He leaned over the stick to grab the leather and Hawke arched her back to put one hand on her exit wound while the other kept pressure on the front. Then her hands glowed in a soft blue. She hissed and grunted as the skin knit itself back together.

"Thanks." Hawke said as she took the hold of the wheel again, her hands bloody and he couldn't look away from them. It reminded him too much of slit throats and mismatched skin sewn together.

Hawke noticed his glance and held one up to her face. "I should really stop getting blood on my hands all the time." She twisted her mouth before drawing two bloodied fingers over the bridge of her nose. "How do you like it?" She asked.

Varric was still trying to find his voice so Hawke turned to Isabela and Merrill on the backseat. She couldn't be serious. In all the years he had lived and all the people he had met, Hawke was still the most ridiculous _human_ he had ever met. Maybe even the most ridiculous _person_  in general.

"I like it," Isabela said weakly.

"See, Isabela is on my side." Hawke told him, grinning before turning her attention back to the road.

"Last I checked, Isabela was only on her own side." Varric couldn't help but bite out, and a heavy silence fell over them all at once. Hawke's hands tightened on wheel.

"I didn't want you to get involved. It was safer for you." Isabela told them.

Varric turned in his seat to stare at her. "You got the entire city involved in this mess!" He shouted and spread his hand over the view of the city rushing past. Half of Lowtown was on fire, meaning most of the alienage, there had been an attack on the Keep and that wasn't even considering what a mess Darktown was.

"Let's discuss this when there isn't an angry mob chasing us down, alright?" Hawke shouted over them cheerfully with a pointed glance at them both and Isabela fell back in her seat.

Varric stared out of the window with his arms crossed.

Hawke checked the rearview mirror and shot a look over her shoulder through the back. The glass of the window behind Merrill and Isabela had shattered at some point and the cold wind was beating mercilessly on his neck.

"I think we lost them." Hawke said, jinxing them instantly.

A car slammed into the driver side up front. He didn't even have the time to notice the lights of the approaching car before they were hit. The force spun the car around and broke the sunroof, raining glass down on them. The entire metal frame creaked as it twisted and bend out of shape. Varric felt his head connect with the passenger window and then felt nothing at all. He vaguely remembered the thought that really they should have seen this coming. 'I think we lost them' was right up there with 'what could possibly go wrong'.

When he blinked the car was sitting still on the side of the road. The new radio Hawke had gotten was a mess of shattered black plastic but still playing the idle tunes of the Starkhaven radio station. At least that purchase had been worth its money, was somehow his first coherent thought. There was groaning from the back and his side and the blinding light from the headlights of the car that hit them. It had come where it had rammed into them on the road and didn't look much worse for wear. The bumper had dropped off and the front was slightly dented, except that it looked brand new.

The Arishok himself stepped out of the car. Followed by several other Qunari, all armed to the teeth. It would be hilarious, them spilling all out of one car like clowns, if they weren't so utterly terrifying.

"Shit." Hawke whispered next to him. There was blood on her mouth from where her lip had split open. She rattled at her seatbelt before holding out her hand for his pocketknife when it wouldn't budge.

He handed his knife over without taking his eyes off the Qunari, slowly surrounding them. Another car drove up, and another.

"Fuck me." Isabela said and shifted in her seat, hiding herself behind the driver seat as if they wouldn't already know that she was there.

Hawke made quick work of her belt and climbed onto her seat, tucking the knife swiftly into her boot before exiting the car through the shattered roof. The glass crunched under her boots and hands.

"Oh creators," Merrill said as Hawke descended the hood of the car as if it were a staircase and came to stand in the middle of the literal horde of Qunari. Saying they were outnumbered would be a crass understatement. The buildings around them seemed to transform into stalls around the ring the Qunari formed, with people peeking out from the windows and gaping at the crowd below. It made him queasy to think that all theses people would watch the impending massacre.

Varric's own seatbelt snapped open easily and he was out of the car in seconds, even if his car door struggled. He kept his distance to Hawke, covering her back.

"Shanedan, Hawke." The Arishok said and Hawke gave him a nod. "You have something of mine."

"No idea what you are talking about," She responded without a hitch in breath. Varric's mind wanted to paint the scene like this: Hawke stood before the Arishok with her head high and armed to the teeth, without fear in her heart.

But even from the distance he could see the slight tremor in her hands and a limp in her walk. There was a large patch of blood on her shirt and down her pants. In the shadows the stains appeared to be a black hole trying to swallow her.

The Arishok wouldn't be impressed either way. "You have the thief with you and I will see her punished."

"No." Hawke said and the men at the Arishok's sides bristled. They didn't start to talk among themselves as Varric expected them too. They stood still, as if offended by Hawke's response and awaited further command.

The sound of a car door opening made Varric flinch his frayed nerves made him reach for the gun at his side, only to realize he must have lost it somewhere in the car. When he turned around he saw Isabela emerge with the book in her hands. She was slightly bruised, neither she or Merrill had had their seatbelts on during the crash. If they survived this, they would have to pay Anders a visit.

"This is what you want, right?" She shouted and walked over. "You can have it."

Hawke stopped her midway to take the book from her. A few hushed words and Isabela stopped to stand behind while Hawke herself walked up to the Arishok. She pressed the book into his hands. This close she looked even smaller than she usually was.

"There you go. Now we can all go home and forget this ever happened." Hawke said and clapped her hand onto the Arishok's upper arm that was as big as her entire head. As if this was all a funny misunderstanding and hadn't waged a war on their home. Varric wondered if Lowtown was still burning or if the smoke was just from the efforts of the firefighters. Hawke turned on her heel as he examined the book and handed it off to the guy next to him.

In a few big steps, Hawke was beside Isabela and grabbed by her arm. She gave Varric a jerk of her head and they were already halfway to her car when the Arishok's booming voice stopped them.

"The thief comes with us." He told them matter of factly, and they all froze.

Almost. They had almost made it.

"What?" Isabela asked, her voice thin and they turned around.

"You have what you wanted. She stays." Hawke told him, taking a step forward and positioning herself between Isabela and the Arishok. Varric took that as his cue to gently herd Isabela further away.

The Arishok shook his head and his expression, was as close to any emotion as it had ever come. Regret.

"Then you leave me no choice." He said. "I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the price." He might as well had shot them all right then and there.

"No!" Isabela shouted and shot forward with only Varric's hands on her wrists holding her back. "If you are going to fight anyone, fight me."

The Arishok sneered at her briefly before responding only to Hawke's face. "You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy. You know no honour." He spit out and Hawke held his gaze.

"Hawke, don't even think about it." Varric told her.

"I accept you challenge. Any rules?" Hawke declared and he really should have seen that one coming.

The Qunari around them walked in a coordinated pattern to form a closer ring around them, trapping them. The Arishok shed his jacket, exposing his chest and muscles. If the world where fair, it should have made him less intimidating, but the world wasn't fair. Especially not today.

"No one interferes. If I win, we will take the thief." He told her and handed his piece of clothing to another of his men.

Hawke looked around the Qunari surrounding them, up the buildings and their audience. "And if I win?" She asked.

"Then they will leave and never return." He told her and Hawke nodded.

She lifted her hand, lighting it with fire. "I suppose you know about this. Any rules regarding that?" Some of the Qunari shuffled on their feet and if Varric didn't know better he would think they were uncomfortable with Hawke's display of magic.

The Arishok inclined his head. "I am aware of your abilities. Use them if you must, I am not afraid."

Hawke nodded. "Give me two minutes."

"Take your time." He told her and Hawke turned her back, putting a bit of distance between them. The Quanri gave them room but not enough to make a break for it.

"Hawke, you can't be considering this." Varric hissed at her, pleading.

She shrugged. "I don't exactly have choice.", was her response. Her face was stony and her jaw clenched.

Isabela bit her tongue and Varric held the same thought that must have been going through her mind. Hawke had every choice. If it were up to him, he would let them have Isabela. He could still smell the fire and see the smoke rising, distant police sirens from every direction. This was all her doing.

"Lethellan." Merrill's soft voice came from the wreck and Varric felt terrible for almost forgetting about her. She climbed carefully out of the car. There were no injuries that he could see besides a swelling at her hairline, already turning from red to purple.

Hawke gave her a smile. "I'll be fine, Merrill."

She peeled her shirt from her stomach to examine her wound. The crash had ripped open the rushed patchwork she had done. With her eyes closed, she put her glowing hands over the wound again. The light was bright enough that Varric couldn't look at it directly. When she was finished, even the cut on her lip had closed.

"Varric, if I lose-" She started, but he didn't let her finish.

"You won't." He said firmly.

"But if-"

"I'll get them out of here." He told her and she gave him a relieved smile. Hawke put her hand on the ruined hood of her car and pulled the knife out of her boot before she took a deep breath. In the shine of the headlights the bloody stripe over her nose looked grotesque and vibrant, reminding him of warpaint.

She turned to the Arishok, facing him in the middle of the ring. The other Qunari swallowed the rest of them, kept them away from the center. Two Qunari handed the Arishok each an axe for either hand and Varric felt sick. Hawke's knife was only slightly bigger than her palm.

The Arishok swung his arms as if warming up for a gym session and Hawke did the same, if more gingerly.

Varric waited for some sort of starting shot to announce the beginning but it didn't come. Instead, the Arishok stood there silently and waited. He wanted to compare them to two lions but somehow they had more something of a dragon fighting a lion. A tiny, half starved lion.

Smart money was on the dragon.

Without a signal that Varric could read, the two charged at each other. The Arishok should have been slow, for all his body height and weight but he moved almost as fast as Hawke, who stepped aside before they clashed and drew the knife along his arm. He didn't even flinch and went for a counter attack. His axes gave him a farther reach, pushing Hawke into the defence. She walked back, evading his attacks but he didn't give her a break, pushing her to the edge of the ring.

Hawke stumbled against one of the Qunari, who might as well had been a wall for all he budged. The Arishok didn't stop, even when his own men were close to his axes, and closed the gap between them fast. Hawke had no option but to duck under his arm to evade, but he saw it coming.

The next swing hit her on the back of the head, thankfully only with the hilt. She stumbled, giving the Arishok time to turn and kick. His foot hit her in the ribs, hard enough that it made Varric flinch and send Hawke sprawling to the ground. The axes rose above the Arishok's head before he rained them down on her. She only barely managed to roll away from them while the force split the asphalt underneath.

The seconds he needed to rip them out of the ground, Hawke used to get back on her feet and get more distance between them. She held one hand on her ribs and tried to breathe through the pain. When the Arishok tried to charge again, she froze the ground with a swipe of her hand. His footing became unsteady and Varric hoped to see him fall, but he adjusted quickly to the change.

Hawke didn't give him too much time to recover this time. The ice under her feet thawed, giving her a slight advantage. Another flick of her wrist and the Arishok's feet were frozen to the ground. She closed the distance, dodging his swings. She slammed the knife into his left arm, using pain rather than force to stop him from crushing her. Her left hand grabbed the hilt of the axe, right where his hand met the hilt and lit it on fire.

The Arishok grunted in annoyance, as if a fly was bothering him. He gathered momentum before he swung his head down on Hawke's face. She fell flat, leaving the knife in the Arishok's arm.

In return she held one of the Arishok's axes in her hand. He looked at his hand, puzzled, before he dropped the scorched piece of wood on the ground. Hawke scrambled back on her feet, holding the axe in one hand, her nose with the other. When she grabbed the hilt with both hands, he could see the bloody mess her face was. Her nose was most definitely broken and bled sluggish down her mouth and chin. She frantically blinked the tears out of her eyes and tried to regain her balance.

The Arishok huffed and hacked the ice at this feet away.

"Not bad." He said.

"Thanks." Hawke replied, spitting blood on the floor.

They clashed again. Hawke blocked the Arishok's axe with her own but her arms and legs buckled under the strain. He kicked her in the stomach, putting distance between them again. Hawke curved her spine to evade the next swing but couldn't make up for the Arishok's reach.

This time the blade of the axe hit. It ripped through Hawke's shirt with ease and split the skin and flesh underneath.

Hawke shouted in pain and twisted out of the way of the next strike, sending some fire to distract him. She tried to heal herself, blue light flaring but the Arishok didn't give her the chance. He swung and she barely managed to block with one hand, while her other was busy keeping the blood inside her.

"This is bullshit. I have to-" Isabela had taken a step before Varric could stop her and the attention of every Qunari around them turned to them, even the Arishok and Hawke halted as the Qunari un holstered their guns and stared. Waiting for their next move. Varric slowly pulled Isabela back.

"If you intervene now, Hawke will lose this chance and we all die." He told her through grit teeth. He didn't like it any more than she did.

It took a couple of moments in which nobody dared to move. Not even Hawke used her chance to recover, she stood still in the middle, catching her breath. Merrill next to him held both hands over her mouth as Varric used his holding Isabela's wrists. Around and behind them, the people staring from their homes seemed to hold their breath as well.

When the Qunari finally tucked their weapons away, Hawke and the Arishok shared a nod, before their battle continued. It had seemed like hours and yet Varric wished they could have bought her more time. If Hawke were only half as dishonourable as she pretended to be, she could have slit the Arishok's throat while they had all been distracted.

Instead a punch to the face sent her flying and she dropped the axe, stumbling to the side before she dropped on her knee. She shook her head against the dizziness and only barely recovered for the Arishok's next swing. He didn't bother to collect his other weapon, only kept her away from it. That was when Varric saw the light reflecting on something in Hawke's hand. The knife, she must have pulled it out of the Arishok's arm when without anyone noticing.

She froze the ground between his feet anew and ran at him as fast as she was still able. Under his next swing, Hawke dropped to the ground and used her momentum to slip between his legs; before he had the chance to turn around she had gripped one of his impressive horns and slung her legs around his torso.

The Arishok bucked under her like a wild horse. His free hand clawed at her leg and he shook his head, trying to get her off, but Hawke had her opening.

She aimed the knife for his throat but missed due to his struggle. It slammed home in between neck and shoulder instead. A strike of lightning from Hawke's hands to the blade and into the Arishok's flesh made his body spasm. His axe dropped. She yanked the knife out of his neck and aimed for the next blow but the Arishok let himself fall back.

Hawke shouted before the impact with the asphalt stole her breath away. The Arishok's horns landed on either side of her but his shoulders and torso crusher her ribs and hips under them.

Still, her next stab hit. The knife landed in the side of the Arishok's throat, going through the windpipe.

He was choking from the first but Hawke made sure, drew the knife out twisted and stabbed again. The blood spluttered from his mouth and neck as he struggled to breathe. Hawke's legs loosened their hold and the Arishok managed to stand up, desperately holding his throat. It spilled over his fingers like a fountain. Hawke let the knife drop to the ground next to her and gingerly scrambled to her knees.

It was over.

The Arishok tumbled over and made the ground tremor as he fell and didn't move again.

The Qunari around them waited and watched their leader take his last wet breaths until they ebbed away completely. As soon as his chest stilled they broke apart. Each of them going back into the car they had come out of without sparing a glance. One of them gathered the Arishok's weapons but left the body and as quickly as they had all appeared, they all disappeared. They cars drove off orderly and Varric managed to breathe again when he saw the last of them disappear behind a corner.

A single cheer made him flinch, that quickly grew louder and louder as more joined and Varric, Isabela and Merrill looked up. From the windows of the buildings, the people of Kirkwall were clapping and shouting in glee.

Hawke sat in the middle of the nonexistent ring, looking up at her audience with a small dazed smile on her lips.

Varric was the first to move. He let go of Isabela and ran towards Hawke, dropping to his knees in front of her and ignoring the pain in his joints. He cupped her bloody face in his hands, while she was still looking up and watched the people cheer.

"Hey, look at me." He told her and she was slow to respond to his words. Her eyes slit back and forth, unfocused.

She smiled lopsided, her teeth red with blood. "Hey. I won."

Varric smiled back. "You did. Told you."

"Did we bet on it?" Her eyes fluttered. "Because if not, I still win. I think I earned to win no matter what I bet on."

Varric nodded. "Sure Hawke. Whatever you want. You just won free drinks for the rest of your life." He just hoped that the rest of her life wasn't shorter than he wanted.

Her eyes stayed closed this time but she was still smiling. "Can I pass out now?" She asked and chuckled a little.

"Better not. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion." Varric said as Merrill sat down next to Hawke, holding her up with her hands around her shoulders.

Isabela had her phone in her hand and dialed a number. Instead of answering herself, she held it in Varric's direction. He took it from her with a glare that Isabela faltered under. She slung her arms around her stomach and kept her distance, staring at the ground.

"Anders. Hawke needs your help." Varric said instead of the greeting when the other picked up.

"The clinic is a mess, Varric. Have you looked outside today? I'll meet you at Hawke's." He shouted over the noise in his background of people crying and talking among themselves. Hightown was too far, Varric thought as he shot a look at Hawke's car. They would never make it in time, not if they had to carry her. Gamlen's was only a few blocks away but he wouldn't open up during this chaos. Getting Hawke up to his penthouse undetected was out of question. That only left one option.

"No. Meet us at the Hanged Man." He said.

"What?"

"Just do it, Anders. Hurry." Varric didn't wait for another response before he hung up.

"They wrecked my car." Hawke said, two dazed eyes focused on where the car still sat smoking.

Varric typed a quick message to the only number he knew by heart. "Don't worry about it." He said.

 

* * *

 

"I hope this is your idea of a joke." Bianca's voice was still a siren's song in his ears even after all the years.

"It's not." He said and sat down at one of the tables in the back. Corff didn't pay him any mind, polishing some wine glasses behind the counter instead and Varric wondered if those were still the ones that Fenris had downed the day before. It seemed surreal to think it had only been a few hours since they had all sat here without a care in the world. Now Hawke was upstairs fighting for her life under Anders' capable hands. He tried not to think about it too hard.

"So, you just want me to ignore the dead body lying here?" She said and he could see her with her hands on her hips in his mind.

"I'll take care of it, just get the car to your shop and see if you can fix it."

She scoffed. "That thing wasn't worth the metal before someone rammed into it."

"I know, believe me but it has sentimental value." He said and listened to her silence on the other end. His fingers got stuck on a sticky stain on the table when he drummed on it.

"Okay." Bianca said slowly. "I think I need to know the whole story for this."

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I will explain it just get it back to your shop. Please."

Another stretched silence but not an uncomfortable one. There were many uncomfortable things between him and Bianca but talking, or the lack of it, had never been among those things. She chose her words carefully and always had. It was one reason why insults from her hurt so much, because she always meant them.

"This will cost you a fortune. I hope it's worth it." She said finally and he could hear the sound of metal on metal.

"Me too." He said and hesitated. "Thank you," He added.

"Don't thank me yet." Bianca said, voice soft and full of over twenty years of history. Then she hung up on him without another word. He cradled the phone in his hands, warm from his skin and stayed in his seat while Corff polished the rest of the glasses and checked the cooling cabinets.

By the time made his way back up to his apartment, Merrill had fallen asleep at his table. Isabela sat quietly next to her, body lined with exhaustion but her eyes alert and staring at nothing. She didn't look at Varric when he entered, and he didn't have the energy to pick a fight right now so he passed them without a word.

Aveline nearly stumbled into him when she opened the door. She looked tired, but which of them didn't. He spared a glance past Aveline's frame at Anders who was packing up his bags and talking softly with Hawke. There was a little more color to her cheeks and it wasn't the blood still smeared on it. It was more comforting than he had thought possible.

They shared a small exhausted smile. "Did you hear anything from Fenris or Sebastian?" He asked her.

Aveline nodded. "Them and Donnic had their poker night. I had to convince him not to come in when everything started." She scrubbed a hand over her face with a weary sigh.

"Good." Varric felt a little lighter knowing all his charges were accounted for. This was why he didn't like getting attached, it wasn't good for his health.

"I was headed home to rest." Aveline told him. The pallor of her cheeks didn't diminish the strength in the set of her shoulders. She was furious with them all but just as Varric himself, she was saving the fight for another day.

He rummaged his pockets for his keys. "Use the penthouse. Take Anders too, I'd feel more comfortable knowing none of us are walking through the streets right now."

She let the keys rustle in her hands, debating with herself if she should argue.

"There are orange juice and cookies upstairs." He said with a smile and Aveline rolled her eyes with a groan.

"Fine." She said and waited for Anders to finish packing up in the doorway, while she let Varric pass.

"You tell me if you need anything. I literally owe you my life." Hawke voice was slightly slurred.

Anders smiled slightly and hesitated. "Some of the ingredients I use for Karl's potions aren't quite-" He shot a look at Aveline but she wasn't paying attention to them. "Easy to acquire."

Hawke waved him off with a limp hand. "Give me a list and I'll take care of it." She dropped her hand down on her stomach and winched. "Maybe not until the end of the week though."

Anders huffed a laugh. "Try until the end of the month, at least." He said with all the authority of a doctor and followed Aveline outside.

"Yeah, we'll see about that." Hawke threw after him quiet and stubborn and Varric left the door ajar before crossing the short distance to the bed. She still sounded stuffed up, her nose and eyes colored in red and purple bruising.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"A little like I've been through a meat grinder.“ She lifted her hand up to show him the space between her thumb and forefinger when she said 'a little'. “Would not recommend." Her eyes followed him until he stood next to her by the bed. Someone had put a pillow under her head and he wondered if she could smell him on the fabric.

"Can't imagine why." He said, shaking his head at both of them.

Hawke hummed. "It's a mystery. Think Aveline's blood will give me superpowers?"

"Magic not enough for you?" Varric asked amused. How easy it was to joke now that he knew she was going to be alright.

"Could have done with a little more strength. Or flight." She grinned.

"I don't think Kirkwall would ever recover." Varric told her, lost in the image of her in a skintight superhero costume.

Hawke huffed, though it sounded more as if she were blowing a raspberry. "It would be fine. Kirkwall survived centuries before I came along."

"That it did." He said and muffled a yawn behind his fist. The tension in his body was slowly receding, leaving him drained. He should go up to the penthouse, catch a few hours of sleep or get Isabela and Merrill a room to rest properly. There were calls he had to make and people he had to bribe. Too many had seen Hawke use magic in the fight to cover it completely but he could do some damage control. Get people to describe her wrong or claim to know nothing at all. He hoped the good graces of the people would keep their price for silence low.

Even with the to-do list forming in his head, he remained rooted at his spot, unwilling to move. It was easy to blame it on the weariness even if it wasn't completely true.

Hawke batted her eyelids slowly, half asleep herself. "Where are we?"

"My apartment." Varric said out loud before he could stop himself. He closed his eyes to curse at himself in his head before he dared to open them again, prepared for Hawke looking at him disappointed or angry. Instead he saw her squinting at the ceiling.

"Doesn't look like your apartment." She mumbled in a softly confused tone.

"My actual apartment." Varric clarified. "The other is more of a decoy." He explained carefully. He didn't want them to fight over this again, about his keeping secrets and not being honest. It hadn't occurred to him to bring it up to anyone ever unless absolutely necessary.

"Huh," Hawke said. "I bled on your bed." Her eyes drifted closed.

He laughed, despite himself. "Yes, you did."

"Sorry about that."

"You're not."

"True but you could at least appreciate the sentiment." Hawke said, cracking her eyes open.

"Don't worry, I do." Maker, his head was killing him. Maybe he should have had Anders take a look at it before he had sent him to rest. Then again, if Varric hadn't passed out yet, he probably wasn't going to. Sleep wasn't very high on his priority list either way.

Hawke licked her chapped lips as the little cut from the accident had reopened at some point, and just looked at him.

"Come here for a second." She said quietly and beckoned him with her hand. Her jaw was clenched tightly. The pain was still strong even after all the healing. Magic wasn't a miracle, as Anders liked to say. Hawke had months of recovery ahead of her.

When Varric leaned in, she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him closer with more strength than she should have after such injuries. He had to brace his hands on the mattress so he wouldn't fall on her and when he wouldn't let himself be pulled even closer, Hawke met him the rest of the way. She lifted herself on one elbow and pressed her lips against his.

Her lips trembled under him, from the strain of their position or something else Varric couldn't define. Too caught up was he in the feel of her dry lips on his, the overpowering smell of blood over Hawke's own. Dog fur, hot marble and fresh grass.

He was still hyper aware of that particular smell when Hawke fell back into the bed and pushed him away with a hand on his chest. Her own was heaving as she breathed heavily through her mouth.

"I'll blame this on the head injury tomorrow." She said, smiling. "Probably won't remember not matter what." There was no regret or sadness, just an simple acceptance.

Varric was still leaning over her, hands on the mattress and couldn't find his words.

"Why?" Why him? Why now? Why, why why. His entire head was empty.

Hawke shrugged and winced in the same breath. Still she kept her smile. "Didn't think I would get a chance to do that." She said as if she was telling him about the weather.

She was so much braver than him.

"Okay, you can go now." Hawke said and placed her dirty hand right over his face, shoving him away. "Someone here needs their beauty sleep and we both know it's not you."

He grabbed her hand from his face and held onto it like a lifeline.

"What if I want you to remember?" Varric felt vaguely sick. His hands were clammy and he thought how uncomfortable it must be for Hawke to have him hold onto hers.

Hawke squinted at him or maybe she was just trying to focus her eyes, it was a little hard to tell with the swelling.

"Are you just saying this because I almost died and you feel bad?" She asked bluntly.

Varric spluttered. "No."

"Cool then." Hawke said and tugged him back down with the hand he still held captive.


	3. Act 3

There was new graffiti in town. It was everywhere from Darktown to occasionally in Hightown, even the Viscount's Keep sported an incredible phallus on one very memorable occasion. This particular piece was special however.

"Do I actually look like that?" Hawke said, turning her head to the side.

"Not quite." He replied.

The wall of one of the many low-end apartment complexes had been decorated with an artist's interpretation of Hawke. A tall dark haired woman with blue eyes. The lower half of her face was hidden underneath a red bandana, that was a few shades brighter than the stripe of blood painted on the bridge of her nose. She held a sword as long as her arm in one hand, instead of the puny dagger she had actually had. One foot was braced on a scarily accurate, chopped off head of the Arishok. Underneath the artist had written in bold red letters 'The Champion of Kirkwall'.

Someone else, judging from the change of style, had added a ball of fire to Hawke's other hand and added a speech bubble of her saying 'Mage Pride'. The picture wasn't accurate enough to let anyone recognize Hawke on the street but standing right next to it, the similarities were a little too much. They shouldn't stay too long.

"They got your eye color wrong." Varric told her.

Hawke leaned closer and squinted. Her eyes were still bruised from her broken nose, even if Anders had fixed most of the damage. Finally, she shrugged and let Varric herd her away.

"Why Champion though? Is that a reference to something?" Hawke asked and let her arm rest on his shoulders.

"It's a Marcher's title for those that have earned it by spilling blood and sweat in service of a city. Hasn't been used in ages." He told her as he led her through the streets. Most people still avoided the carnage and the thugs the chaos had brought so they were for themselves.

"I'm not a Marcher though." Hawke said.

Varric shrugged, feeling her arm move with him. "If it's up to me, nobody will ever know enough of this Champion to identify her so it doesn't really matter."

"Fair enough." Hawke said. "I am guessing the artwork wasn't why you dragged me out of my comfortable bed then? If it was just to get me to walk through the city I am sure Anders will be very mad. I am under strict bed rest."

Varric snorted. "You haven't spent a second too long in your bed for days. I doubt it's me Anders would be scolding."

"Keep telling yourself that if it comforts you." She patted his hair and Varric was still getting used to this whole thing. Not Hawke being touchy, because she had always been, but rather every touch having meaning now. Even more than before.

"But there is indeed something else I wanted to show you."

"I hope it's a pony." Hawke said deadpan, before they rounded the corner.

She stopped instantly when she saw the surprise he had prepared, her arm slipping off Varric's shoulders as he kept walking.

"Not a pony I'm afraid." Varric said and unlocked Hawke's car, holding the door open for her.

It took her a few seconds to move but when she did, she ran. "You fucking didn't." She said, snatching the keys from his hands and all but jumping in the driver's seat. Varric tried not to wince on behalf of her still healing ribs and hip and instead rounded the car to take the passenger seat.

"How? I distinctly remember another car crashing into it." Hawke asked him with her hands stroking the steering wheel and the cover panels.

"I have a friend who is a genius with machines of any kind." He said smiling. Bianca truly had crafted a miracle. Most of the frame of the car had been beyond saving, same as the engine and most of the inner mechanics under the hood. The driver's seat had a hole and blood stains too severe to get out of the worn fabric. Hardly anything about the car was the same, but Bianca had saved parts where she could. She also had cursed when she saw that while the parts for the car where hard to find, they were also dirt cheap because everyone wanted to get rid of them so she hadn't been able to charge him extra for those.

“She saved as many parts as she could but I insisted on getting the front seats replaced.” He told her.

"Just because you kept being a baby about the passenger seat." Hawke said and fumbled with the keys. They managed to salvage the horrid keychain that Aveline gave her forever ago, going with the car's theme of terrible taste. "I really have to meet this friend." Hawke told him, adjusting the seat and the mirrors to her liking.

Varric gave her a soft laugh because he was going to take his dying breath before Hawke and Bianca ever met. Chances were he wouldn't survive the encounter anyhow.

Something caught Hawke's eye in the backseat and she clambered out of her seat, nearly giving Varric a heart attack.

"What the hell?" He asked as Hawke intently stared at a spot on the upholstery. The grayish-brown fabric was singed away in a small oval hole, revealing the dirty yellow padding underneath.

Hawke was tracing her fingers around the edge of the burned hole and Varric took the time to climb into the backseat himself.

"I told her to keep what she could but I insisted on the front seats." He said quietly. "We can get that fixed."

Hawke shook her head and placed her hand over the hole, covering it completely. Her face was pulled into a big smile.

"We've had this car since forever." She started and Varric knew that already, Bianca had complained about the car being older than herself. "My sister came into her magic when her, Carver and my parents drove back home from a trip.” Hawke told him. " Beth's hand ignites during an argument with Carver, setting fire to the seat. She freaked out and started crying while Carver beat the flames out with his hands before my dad even had time to turn his head." Varric could vividly picture a tiny scowling Carver, beating fire into submission. "He got second-degree burns. By the time they made it home I had been convinced they all died in a wreck and seeing Beth crying and Carver with his blistering hands, mom and dad weary to the bone, I cracked some stupid joke and just went back inside." Hawke leaned back into the seat and tilted her head to look at him laugh.

"You were a little shit." He said, a little breathless.

"Some might argue I still am." She said.

Varric paused for dramatic effect before he added: "Some might be right."

Hawke stuck her tongue out to him before she leaned close. Her hands engulfed his face, the tips of her fingers brushing the hair on his neck to guide him to her lips for a soft kiss. She tipped his head back when she shuffled closer, her height working against them and making everything slightly uncomfortable.

"I love you." She said when they pulled apart and underlined her words with another peck. "This is amazing."

Varric was convinced he had just had a stroke. His mouth went dry and his head emptied in an instant.

"Sorry, was that weird? It's too early isn't it? And now I can't take it back, damn." Hawke wondered aloud before she shrugged. "It's been true for a while now, you might as well get used to it now.

"How long?" He croaked out and desperately swallowed to get some moisture back in his throat.

Hawke gnawed at her lip. "When Carver got shot, you found out about the mage thing and you didn't care."

Varric distinctly remembered that he had cared plenty about that. Mostly because Hawke had ripped everyone to shreds and in retrospect that had been kind of hot. In a really weird way that Varric really didn't want to think about when he was this close to a boner already.

"That and you're pretty, meeting about all of my standards." Hawke said.

Varric huffed a laugh. "That's all?" He asked disbelieving.

Hawke put a hand on her chest. "What can I say, I am a cheap date." She paused before she added "Actually those and that you laugh about my jokes."

Varric rolled his eyes but his cheeks were hurting from smiling. "Yes, let's go with 'laugh about' and not 'at you'."

Hawke blew a raspberry and waved him off. "Please, I am hilarious."

He shook his head. "That's not a very high standard to meet, I have to say."

"Yet people dug a trench to crawl under it." Hawke smiled simply. Before they could drift into awkward ex territory she shoved him against the side of the car. "You want to continue this here or take a drive around the block with my new car?" She asked grinning.

Varric stared at her lips, at the bruises around her eyes and couldn't stop smiling. His heart was hammering a tune against his ribs.

 

* * *

 

In all the years Varric had lived in Kirkwall, he had never seen the inside of the Gallows. The courtyard, yes. When he was younger they used to organize festivals and shows for the public to get a better image and to gather donations; that had stopped a few years after Meredith Stennard had gotten the position as Knight-Commander and bullied the city into giving the Circle and the Templars more funding.

Back then he hadn't given the place a second thought, he really didn't give a shit about magic and now it gave him the creeps.

Hawke gave Cullen a wave as they passed, but didn't get one in return as usual. Cullen stood stoic and stiff at the bottom of the stairs and didn't even crack a smile. Varric was as confused as Hawke when he merely told them that Meredith was waiting for them instead of letting Hawke talk his ear off for a few minutes as they usually did. He had never cared much for Cullen beyond the fact that Hawke was friends with him but even he was a little put off at his reaction.

"The Knight Commander is expecting you." He said curtly and showed them inside.

Hawke threw him a look behind Cullen's back as he led them through the tight corridors of the Templar quarters, past an empty secretary desk and through a fancy wooden door. Sebastian and Fenris on their heels seemed just as puzzled about the whole display.

As they entered the room, Meredith Stannard stood with her back to them, looking out of the big windows that overlooked a garden.

"Thank you Cullen." She said without turning around and Cullen took that as his cue to leave. He didn't even spare Hawke another glance, causing her frown to deepen.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes before she faced Meredith's back. "What is this urgent matter you spoke of?" Hawke asked.

"I have an assignment for you." Meredith said and took some folders from her desk and carried them over to where they were standing. "An incident occurred in the Gallows a few days ago, some of our charges fled the compound. I need you to look for them." She held out the folders.

Varric raised an eyebrow but it was Hawke that voiced her confusion. "Have the Templars all suddenly disappeared?" She asked and crossed her arms. "I don't see why I should do your job for you."

Meredith lifted her chin as if she needed the extra inches to stare down at Hawke, who was about a head shorter.

"They have tried, but the mages' families' are hiding them and have been uncooperative. I think they would be more willing to talk to their Champion, don't you think?"

Varric tried to keep his breathing even. Nobody was supposed to know that Hawke was the Champion, least of all Meredith.

Hawke shrugged but her shoulders had tensed. "Get that person then."

"I think we both know who and most importantly, what you are." Meredith said, taking another step closer.

Hawke lifted her chin and stared right at Meredith. "Why not arrest me then?" Prompted.

"Let me be very clear on this matter, Serah." Meredith clasped her hands behind her back as Hawke dropped her's on her sides. "I have allowed you to roam freely because the people of Kirkwall see you as their protector and you have acted as such in the past. If I suspect that is no longer the case, I may need to re-evaluate my assessment of you. Of you and your apostate friends."

Varric itched for his gun or for his knuckles to connect with flesh but Hawke was keeping herself still. "One of them in Darktown and the other in Lowtown, correct?" Meredith pondered and Hawke's hands balled to fists.

"So you aren't actually giving me a choice." Hawke said through grit teeth.

"Oh, you have a choice. A very simple choice. Either help protect this city or the Circle will welcome you into its midst. Punishment will follow of course. Over ten years of apostasy can't simply be overlooked. Not to mention your friends, who have served the city no purpose at all."

It was blackmail, in every sense of the word, and they were powerless. Varric should have looked into Meredith sooner, found some dirt on her that he could have used now. Instead he had nothing and could say nothing. He hadn't realized how fragile his friends were in this system, just by being mages. Anders would rather die before he let them drag Karl and himself back here, and Merrill would wither behind the high walls. He didn't want to think about what would happen to Hawke.

Hawke yanked the folders out of her hand. He waited for a sly comment, an outburst, he would have even taken some diplomacy right about now.

Instead Hawke grit out a "Will that be all, then?" Her hands tightening on the files and crumpling the pages.

Meredith's smile was enough to make bile rise in his throat. "Report back to me when you are done." She said and waved them out of her office.

 

* * *

 

Hawke slammed her car door closed with more force than necessary and flung the folders onto the dashboard. Varric got into the passenger side with carefully controlled movements even if his stomach was boiling with rage. Fenris and Sebastian got in as Hawke started the motor and before they had buckled up, she drove off. Her knuckles were white around the steering wheel as she cut through the traffic, away from the Gallows and onto the ferry that would take them back to the docks.

A bored clerk collected the charge for the passage, which Hawke paid without trying to mooch the money off him.

"You know, I always thought I would go to prison for being caught stealing someone's wallet, not for being born." She said as soon as the clerk walked to the next car.

"Surely that is a little harsh." Sebastian said, leaning forward. "I know there are a lot of bad rumors going around but the Circle cannot be that bad. The Chantry would never allow it." Varric rolled his eyes. He loved the guy, really, he just wanted to punch him sometimes.  
Fenris was uncharacteristically quiet, neither agreeing or opposing the argument, looking out of the window with his arms crossed over his chest.

"So it'll be a cozy prison then?" Hawke replied sweetly. "Not like I would care for long."

Varric looked at her. "What would they do?" He asked and regretted it immediately.

"I got into my magic with twelve so that's seventeen years outside the Circle. I'll be made Tranquil the same day they arrest me and if I am lucky, isolation right after. Merrill and Anders would get worse punishments, if there are any." Hawke told him and closed her eyes, her head resting against the seat. Varric had been afraid of that answer.

"Tranquil?" Sebastian asked and Varric thought about Karl shouting and screaming and wishing for death before slipping back into monotone nothing and quiet compliance.

"Magical lobotomy. It'll rid me of all magic, emotions, agency." Hawke trailed off. "Pretty much everything."

Sebastian was thoughtful for a moment. "It's a cure then." He said carefully.

Hawke spun around in her seat. "It's not. A cure." She hissed at him, eyes ablaze with anger. Varric put a comforting hand on her arm and send a glare to Sebastian.

He himself hadn't known much about Tranquility before he had gotten into contact with Karl. The news had talked about it endlessly a few years back, when Ferelden demonstrators had fought against the Rite being practiced in their circle. It had been a success, somewhat. They had higher restrictions to what qualified a mage for Tranquility and how they should be treated after that were mostly followed through on paper. It had been a first step that the Free Marches were reluctant to take. Ostwick was the only one that had also adopted Ferelden's new laws. The politician son, Dorian Pavus of Tevinter had posted on social media only one thing about the matter: ‘Tevinter has used the Rite in place of the death penalty for decades. That should tell you have awful it is in its nature.’ Somehow despite all that, the looming threat of Tranquility hadn't registered on Varric's radar much at all. It came long after getting shot, or stabbed, or dying in a car crash or duelling giant pissed off qunari.

It couldn't have been as easy for Hawke to ignore.

Sebastian was smart enough not to say anything further.

Hawke took the folders from the dashboard with angry frustration and flipped through them with more force than necessary, eyes skimming the words.

"I want Aveline and Isabela with us on this." She said to Varric, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I'll drop you off in Hightown." She threw over her shoulder before handing the folders over to Varric. He barely glimpsed at them, his mind racing in a different direction. Meredith surely had a weakness they could exploit. Everyone had them and Varric was the best at finding them. He would have to knock on some old Templar contacts which would cost him a fortune but it would be worth it.

"I have offended you," Sebastian realized, more confused than sorry.

"Not intentionally." Hawke sighed with a thin smile and avoided Sebastian's eyes in the rearview mirror.

In the backseat, Fenris remained silent and continued looking out of the window as they drove off the ferry.

 

* * *

 

This was what a nightmare must feel like, Varric couldn't help but think. The ground underneath them had stopped rumbling from the explosion that had shattered the Chantry like a piece of glass, but it still shook with the force of millions of panicked feet running away from flying debris. The blinding red glowing column that had shot up into the sky while ripping the building apart was forever burned in the back of Varric's eyes.

The worst was Anders, standing there as the people rushed past them, completely void of emotion.

"There can be no peace." He told them as if talking about the weather. Cloudy with a chance of falling bits of faith.

Hawke stared at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open, ready to scream and shout but without finding the actual words. Varric was faced with the rare problem of being speechless himself. There were no words that would do this justice. The distant sound of sirens slowly rose over the frightened screams and chaos.

"Was Sebastian-?" Was the first thing Hawke got out. Varric's heart stopped for a beat at the thought choirboy could have been in this fireless inferno before his memory caught up with him.

"He is visiting relatives in Starkhaven." He said, relieving himself and Hawke of the worry.

The sirens drew closer, and Varric watched Hawke. For the first time in years, he saw something he didn't like. The same expression she had before deciding to fight a Qunari.

"Darktown. We go through Darktown to my house. Give us a headstart." She said and already dragged them away. It would be useless, too many people had seen them. Everybody knew who they were. Everybody knew who Hawke was and what people she associated with. They would find them.

"We need to leave the city." Varric said through grit teeth.

"First things first." Hawke told him and he shut up.

He kept quiet when they got to Darktown, let Anders get a bag from the clinic, already packed. He kept quiet when they made their way through Hawke's basement. And as she locked every door behind them that she could even if it was for naught. He kept quiet when they made it into her hallway and Orana greeted them with worry.

He kept quiet even when Hawke spun around without warning and hit Anders square in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

"What were you thinking?" She hissed, all compressed fury blazing in her posture. Orana gasped, one hand held before her mouth and any other time Varric would have taken time to comfort her. Right now he couldn't even comfort himself.

Anders took the hit and fell. "I did what I had to do. It couldn't go on like this." He said, not meeting their eyes, not even getting up from the floor.

"This is why you send Karl away to Orlais with Bodhan and Sandal isn't it? You planned for this." Hawke asked. Her fists were shaking at her sides.

"Yes." Anders said simply and Hawke had to turn away from him. From the other room her mabari poked its head in, tail wagging but not the ball of excitement it usually was. Instead it took Varric's place comforting Orana, pressing against her side protectively.

"Then why-" Hawke took a deep breath and pressed her eyes shut. "Why didn't you tell me? I might have understood." She told him. Her voice was heavy with sorrow and frustration. Months of pressure and fear, boiling over. Varric didn't know what she would have done if Anders had confided in her. Maybe she would have helped him, afraid and so oh so angry at Meredith and her abuse or maybe she would have had a different plan, a better one. One that wouldn't have cost people their lives.

"I didn't want you to be involved." Anders said. Wasn't that the most ironic echo ever.

"I am involved now!" Hawke turned around. "Only now I am unprepared."

Now at least, Anders had the decency to look ashamed. Hawke stared down at him, still sitting on her floor, like a vengeful goddess. She took her time to calm down. By the time she turned to Orana she was back to her human self.

"Orana, I need you to pack as much of your things as you can carry. Then you and Muffin will go to Merrill in the alienage. Don't go outside unless absolutely necessary. I will come and get you when it's safe." She told the young elf.

"But serah-" Orana started but Hawke took her gently by the shoulders.

"Don't argue right now. This is going to get ugly and I can't be out there worrying about you. Please, would you do that for me?" She asked, kind but urgent. Orana's eyes brimmed but she nodded and disappeared further into the house.

"Call Isabela. If anyone'll know how to get out of the city right now, it'll be her." Hawke told him and managed to sound only a little bitter. Varric had his phone out in seconds. He shot a text to Corff first, telling him to lock his apartments.

Hawke dragged Anders to his feet roughly while he dialed. "You go straight to the docks. Don't stop for anything, don't talk to anyone. Go to the Siren's Call and you and Isabela take off the second you get there." She ordered and put a dodgeball team cap on his head. The Kirkwall Statures, representing.

"Hawke-" He started but she shoved his bag into his hands.

"We will talk about this later." She said just as Orana came back. Hawke gave her all the money in her wallet and a tight hug.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry." Hawke told her as Orana cried on her chest. Muffin also got a hug and returned the affection by slobbering his owner's face before they left.

Varric stepped away to leave them to their goodbye's and stopped by the fireplace. He couldn't help but look around. Here was everything Hawke had fought hard to earn back for her mother. Unopened letters spilled over the side table, the jacket Varric forgot two days ago still hung over the back of a chair now cluttered with dog hair. The book of Kirkwall's law that Aveline had brought over a few weeks ago still sat at the same spot where Muffin had dragged it after Hawke had given it to him to play. This was her home and she would have to leave it again.

"It's not my fault this time, I swear." Was what Isabela greeted him with.

"I know." He responded. "It's Anders'."

A moment of silence from the other line. In the background he could hear the sound of waves crashing against the boat. "Oh. That's good. Or not, I suppose."

"Let's go with not good." He shot a look over his shoulder at Hawke hissing instructions or insults to Anders, it was hard to tell from the distance. "Hawke wants you to take Anders and leave but knowing our luck we'll all need to get out of here soon. Wait for us as long as you can. Text me when you take off so I know we need to look for something else."

There was rustling on her side. "I won't set off without you unless you give me the ok." There was an unspoken 'I owe Hawke that much' hidden between her words. Hawke pulled Anders into a hug and he nodded at some of her words before he put his arms around her.

"Good." He said and watched Hawke shove Anders towards the stairs. She had told him to leave through her bedroom window then. It was easy to climb to the roof and then to the neighbors', from where a giant oak tree stood as tall as the buildings. Varric felt righteously petty when he turned his back to Anders as he passed.

"Aveline would never leave but I'll try her, Merrill and Fenris anyway." Isabela told him.

Someone knocked at Hawke's front door. Pounded was more like it.

"See you soon." Varric said as his veins turned to ice.

"I'll count on it. Don't make me wait." Isabela said tightly before she hung up and Varric threw his phone into the fire.

The door burst open and policemen spilled inside, surrounding them instantly. No, not policemen. They wore the uniform of the Templar order and that was much worse. Varric saw Cullen put handcuffs on Hawke as he felt someone do the same for him.

"Marian Hawke." Meredith stepped over the broken door. "I knew you would be involved in such a sinister affair. It disgusts me." She said.

"Why, because it's not your sinister affair?" Hawke threw back easily. It was bizarre to think of the two women as equal in this moment. Hawke with her hands cuffed behind her back and Meredith with a hand on her decorated gun but with a single sentence Hawke had blown away the differences. She demanded respect even with her hands tied.

"Charming." Meredith bit out, her hands clasped in front of her, fingers twisting a red ring on her finger. "Where is the apostate?"

Hawke shrugged as much as Cullen's hand on her shoulder would allow her. "Right in front of you."

Meredith sized her up and finally lifted her head to look down on her. "The one responsible."

Hawke leaned back and let Cullen take her weight who, to Varric's satisfaction, stumbled a little before he could correct his stance. "I thought you had already decided that was me." She said and shrugged.

"I do not have patience for your games. Tell me where he is and I might show mercy to you and your friend." Meredith spit out.

Hawke hesitated. She looked over her shoulder and searched his gaze, eyes questioning. He gave her his most confident grin and Hawke smiled back.

"Sorry. I have no idea who you are talking about." She replied finally.

Meredith huffed. "So this is how you want to play this."

"Isn't this how we've always played?" Hawke threw back.

Meredith shook her head before she turned around and walked out of the door. "Take them." She said as she left.

Then they were dragged to the cars waiting outside.

 

* * *

 

Varric had never cared much for Cullen, even knowing that he was Hawke's friend, or rather, used to be . Mostly because Varric didn't care for Templars in general. They were either too noble to accept bribery or too snobby to give him decent prices. Rumors of abuse and his recent acquisitions of apostates had not changed his opinion to the better. Cullen had been personally added to his shit-list when he had done nothing to stop Meredith from blackmailing Hawke.

So when Varric didn't think his opinion of the man couldn't sink any lower, Cullen set him on a chair to the wall while Meredith pushed Hawke into her office, he was proven wrong.

 

* * *

 

_Hawke focused on the barred windows behind the imposing wooden desk to avoid looking over her shoulder as Meredith locked the door behind her. The metal clicking into place sounded like a distant thunder in her ears, warning about an oncoming storm. How she despised this office._

_She felt a cold hand on her wrists and couldn't hide a flinch. Second's later, the handcuffs opened and Meredith walked around her holding them up like a prize._

_"Now that I can ask you questions without the audience." She said while leveling Hawke with her eyes and clipped them back on her belt, next to her holster. Hawke rubbed the raw skin on her wrists and held her gaze._

_It was Meredith who turned away first, walking leisurely around her office, hands clasped behind her back. She passed her giant desk, brushed a finger over its impeccable surface before approaching the fireplace on the lefthand wall. Almost as if she had meant to draw attention to it, Hawke focused on the decorated letter opener that sat in a sheath on Meredith's desk._

_"Were you involved in this scheme?" Meredith asked as she stared in the fire. She grabbed one of the iron pokers and stirred the flames. The tiny red specks of flame flew into the air and died._

_Hawke kept her breathing calm. Varric was still sitting outside if they hadn't dragged him away to his own interrogation. She hoped that he remembered the layout of the building because her plan for getting out involved jumping out of the window. It wasn't too high they'd be fine, probably._

_"Not to my knowledge." She said with distaste. If she had known about it they wouldn't be in this mess._

_Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything._

_Meredith still stood facing the fireplace as if she didn't see Hawke as a threat. Either she was overly confident or there was something else Hawke didn't know about. Today had been another reminder that she knew precious few things._

_"Do you approve of the Chantry's destruction?" Meredith asked._

_"No." Hawke said. She had never loved the Chantry. One might even say she had hated it. With its ideals and lies and stupid traditions and rules it had haunted Hawke's entire life. People spitting slurs and hate in the name of the Maker and making Bethany feel guilty for existing. But Hawke also remembered Sister Leliana, who always had an open ear for the twins when they wanted to talk. There was kind Sebastian, who would have grown up all alone if not for the Chantry taking him in, Fenris, who had found solace between the high walls and narrow minds, Aveline, who had looked beautiful and shining on her wedding day, Varric, who prayed sometimes when he thought nobody could see it._

_If so many wonderful people believed in the Chantry, it couldn't be entirely bad._

_"That building was an architectural masterpiece." She added because she was a piece of shit._

_Meredith lifted the poker out if the fire and presented the smoldering tip to her. A burning sun, smaller than her palm and glowing like the real thing from the heat. It sucked all the warmth from Hawke's body._

_"Would you believe that before, I didn't approve of the Rite of Tranquility?" Meredith asked and put the iron back in the fireplace. "It has proven as useful though."_

_Hawke swallowed. "Could’ve fooled me."_

_"Tell me where the apostate is." Meredith demanded, and put the brand back into the fire before it could cool. She turned around, one hand around the handle and waited._

_Hawke stared at the iron sitting in the fire. "Does it matter?" She thought about Karl with his vacant eyes and trembling hands, his monotone voice and the one time when it wasn't. Please kill me, please kill me, he'd said and Anders had looked tempted._

_"It does." Meredith assured her with a strangely sincere tone. It was a farce but Hawke wanted to believe it, for only a second._

_She was playing Antivan Roulette, only that all the chambers were loaded._

_"Then I don't know." Hawke said and desperately hoped that it didn't show in her face. The Docks, the Docks. On the Siren's Call leaving harbor - already far far away. Out of reach. And hopefully safe. Hawke could only wish that Isabela and Anders were long gone._

_"I don't believe you." Meredith told her and her words came to no surprise._

_Hawke thought about Varric sitting outside waiting, hoped they weren't doing anything to him. At least they couldn't threaten him with this._

_"Tough luck." Hawke said. For both of them._

_She thrust out her hand, called to the fire under her skin, mighty and powerful and just waiting to be free. A distraction for Meredith, then she would get rid off the door, grab her dwarf and run for the hills. The literal hills, surely the Dalish could help them out. Or maybe Zevran was still running around out there. Quick and easy, no need to kill any important political figure._

_Instead Hawke watched her flames leave her hand and fizzle out in the air before it came even close to the hand Meredith held outstretched._

_"What?" She muttered and tried again. This time she felt the pull of an invisible force, draining the life out of her fire before it had even fully come to life. Hawke stumbled back, staring at her hands. The magic still sparked between her fingers but it was subdued as if it were sleeping somewhere within her._

_"You have never fought a Templar before, have you?" When Hawke looked up, Meredith was smiling. "They do not simply give us the Chantry's blessing and send us out into the world without protection against the mages." She raised her hand and Hawke gasped when the small movement left her breathless. The sparking between her fingers disappeared. "Rigorous training from an early age and strict discipline are the backbone of the order."_

_"You forgot the brainwashing." Hawke said and her eyes skimmed over the letter opener on the desk. Hawke wagered the distance to the desk wasn't more than three big steps. A knife wasn't exactly ideal in a gunfight but it was better than nothing. She dived._

_Her hand wrapped around the hilt bedazzled with red stones, and she felt a surge of hope before Meredith slammed into her. Her hip connected painfully with the wood as the entire weight of the other woman hit her. With a shout, the knife slid out of her hand. Meredith crowded her against the desk, one arm turning Hawke onto her back before it pressed against her throat, stifling any other noise from her._

_"I regret that you force my hand in this matter, but I will see the apostate responsible punished." Meredith told her with wild sparkling eyes. Hawke recoiled, her head connecting with the unrelenting wood surface. Something was very very wrong and Hawke didn't know a thing, as usual. She grabbed for the letter opener blindly._

_Just when her fingertips brushed the edge of the hilt, Meredith was there. She took the knife and slammed it through Hawke's hand effectively pinning it to the desk. It took her brain a second to recognize the pain and start to scream. Her fingers were twitching from where her nerves and muscles tried to move around the iron in between and with every twitch, Hawke felt the blade scrape against a bone._

_Meredith clasped her hand over Hawke's mouth, shutting her up again. Then the pull was back and this time it was stronger. Her energy was flowing away her through the contact of their skin, leaving her dizzy and empty. Her legs grew weak as the rest of her went slack. The desk bend her spine at an uncomfortable angle and she couldn't even find the energy to correct her position._

_Almost gently, Meredith let go of her jaw and stepped away, disappearing from Hawke's field of vision. There was a roaring in her ears, that might be the blood rushing through her head or something else entirely. She couldn't form a coherent thought as her head lolled to the side, looking at her pierced hand. Like a butterfly pinned to a board. Her hand twitched and coated the blade red and Hawke watched as it weren't her own. The pain had suddenly lessened to a dull throb and seemingly spread to Hawke's entire body._

_Too soon, Meredith was back, towering over her. Hawke made a weak attempt to push her away with her free hand but Meredith grabbed her jaw with tight fingers and lifted her other hand above her head. Clenched in Meredith's fist was the blistering hot iron sun._

 

* * *

 

Varric tested his cuffs while glaring at Cullen, who had sat down at his desk like a glorified secretary. It was good that they hadn't searched him for anything other than guns and knifes and missed the lockpicks he had imbedded in the seams of his jacket. Stupid but good for him. With little prying, the thread gave away and the lockpicks were accessible.

"So you are just going to sit there while Meredith does Maker knows what to Hawke." Varric asked to mask the sound of the metal clicking.

Cullen sighed with the weight of the world and rubbed his temples. "Meredith is not a monster. This is just an interrogation." He said but didn't sound sure about the fact himself.

"Just an interrogation in a private office and behind a locked door." Varric said and the cuffs sprang open. He could try to knock out Cullen and lose time, or kick the door open and get hit in the back or he could run and hope that Hawke did the same. He hated all of those options.

Cullen spared a glance at the door, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

"She considered you her friend." Varric said and pressed salt into the wound. Cullen visibly flinched.

"The Law is clear." He stammered, his eyes flickering between Varric and the door, his jaw tense. "An apostate-"

"Should get a fair trial." Varric interjected and Cullen's mouth shut with a click.

Just before Cullen could say something else, there was a muffled shout from the other side of the door. Varric was on his feet before he realized it, handcuffs dropping to the floor clattering. Cullen had jumped from his seat, one hand on his sidearm.

"Does that sound right to you?" Varric asked, his fists quivering at his side. One hand was still clutching his lockpicks.

Another scream, louder this time and Varric was done with waiting for Cullen to get over himself. He crouched in front of the door making quick work of it.

 

* * *

 

_Hawke felt her eyes drying as she stared at the brand hovering just above her forehead. Meredith's fingers were a vice. She hoped Isabela and Anders had a big enough of head start. She hoped Varric had the mind to kill her quickly._

_Suddenly Meredith's weight above her vanished as something ripped her off her feet. The iron dropped from her hand and Hawke twisted her face away. She was too slow, her body still sluggish with whatever Meredith had used on her and the smoldering sun connected with the side of her face. Her skin burned and Hawke managed barely more than a choked gasp._

_The sound of shuffling and fists hitting flesh were far away as she twisted her body onto her side. One shaking hand wrapped around the hilt of the letter opened and pulled it out of her hand. Her own blood dripping from it was hypnotizing, how the color exactly matched the red stones on the hilt. Hawke lifted her fingers to expect them closer as her other hand spasmed. Lyrium. Bright red lyrium like those fucking stones back in the warehouse, all those years ago. She threw the blade away from her as if would poison her. So that had been the piece of information she had been missing. Hawke pulled her injured hand close to her chest, the other she covered the side of her with. The skin was flaming hot even without touching it, the iron had gotten her on her left temple, just missing her eye._

_"Meredith, that's enough. Stand down." Cullen was here too, sounding far away._

_She slid down the desk but before she could land on the floor, strong hands held her up._

_"Hawke." Varric carefully cupped her face in his hands. She flinched away when his fingers brushed the sensitive flesh but held onto his wrist so he wouldn't pull away. It was a challenge to open her eyes, especially as her left one was slowly swelling shut but she did, if only to see Varric's face._

_"Took you long enough." She said with a smile. Varric’s face twisted in anguish and she tried to smooth out the wrinkles with her hand. "How about we make a run for it?" She asked._

_"Good idea." He told her and helped her stand up when her legs and gravity finally cooperated with her._

_Meredith blocked their path to the door, her chest heaving and a gun raised at Hawke's head. It was a beautiful pistol, white and decorated with the blighted red lyrium. Drained as she was, the red seemed to call to her. It sang a siren's song, vibrating through the air and into her bones urging her to just reach out and take it - just grab onto it and let it fill her empty head. Let it consume her._

_"I will see this mage punished! As the Maker wills it!" Meredith shouted, her voice shrill and not quite her own but the arm pointed at Hawke was steady._

_"Hawke." Varric asked quietly and Hawke could only shake her head._

_"I have no magic." Hawke said and pulled Varric behind her. One bullet for one mage. Varric might do something stupid and Hawke was so tired of fighting. Before Varric could voice the protest that was brimming in every line in his body, it was Cullen that stepped in. His broad shoulders pushed into her line of vision from her blind side, blocking Meredith's shot._

_"Out of the way, Cullen. This does not concern you." Meredith ordered. To Hawke it sounded like the lyrium shouted in unison with her. Pulsing with her heartbeat._

_"I hereby declare you unfit for duty Knight Commander." Cullen said and his voice only trembled slightly. "You have abused your rights as a member of the Templar Order-"_

_Hawke's gaze focused on the gun sitting still and calm in Meredith's hand, not aimed at her anymore but at Cullen. Meredith's eyes had become distant and there was red bleeding into her iris. The lyrium on her gun and her ring crackled, spiderwebs of power licking at her skin and nobody could see it._

_Hawke didn't hesitate._

_Her right hand grabbed the gun from Cullen's holster - black, standard issue, an old model but carefully tended to. The material tore at the hole in her palm as she raised it between his arm and his torso. The first shot hit Meredith's aiming arm and made her drop the weapon. The recoil was worse. Hawke felt it rip through her nerves and shred something in her hand, making her fingers tingle and grow numb. She lined her next shot before all feeling could leave her. The next shot hit Meredith's other shoulder, making her stumble backwards._

_She wasn't sure if the noise of the gunshots or her imagination had stolen all the other sounds in the room and as soon as Hawke was aware of their absence, they returned. Her own heartbeat in her ears, Meredith's ragged breathing, Cullen's gasp, Varric’s quiet "Oh, shit."_

_"I-" Meredith muttered, not bothering to try to stop the blood from flowing from her wounds. Instead she grabbed the knife from the ground. Hawke's blood was still coating the blade in scarlet. "I will not be defeated!"_

_A final shriek, so unlike herself, ripped her throat apart before the lyrium followed. The stone on her ring cracked and burst open. The shards embedded themselves in Meredith's flesh and grew across her skin, uncaring of her screams of the horrified witnesses._

_She only stopped moving and when the lyrium completely encased her but her screaming seemed to echo much longer after._

_Cullen took a step forward and Hawke's hand grabbed his upper arm without a second thought._

_"Don't touch her." She told him and tried to resist the urge to do just that. It was raw power, sitting right in front of her. Tempting like a comfortable bed or a good drink._

_They didn't speak. There were no words._

_Hawke ejected the magazine from the pistol, her fingers clumsy and slick on the metal and left the last bullet in the chamber._

_One bullet, one mage. It would be over._

_She held the gun out to Cullen, holding it by the barrel and held his gaze as much as she was able to. Her lids were threatening to drop, where her eye wasn't already swollen shut and useless._

_Cullen took the gun. Looked at her, looked at Meredith._

_"Get out of here." He said quietly, only once. Varric dragged her away._

 

* * *

 

The Siren's Call waited for them at the docks, just as promised. If Hawke was surprised at the sight, she didn't mention it as Varric herded her onto the ship. The entire way she had stumbled more than she had walked, as if she were sleepwalking. The port was as good as empty except for the small boats still hustling people aboard to leave the city. Distant explosions and gunfire seemed to worry nobody.

The ship slowly pushed away from the harbor the moment they set their last foot on the somewhat solid wood floor. Isabela was shouting at her people from underneath a giant blue hat, decorated with white and green peacock feathers and somehow people still respected her. Fenris and Anders approached them but when Hawke sidestepped Anders, Fenris kept his distance.

Hawke slumped against the railing, dragging Varric down with her, claiming his arm as her own and wrapping herself around it. He felt the wet fabric of his jacket that he had hastily bound around her bleeding hand. Her body was a leaf shaking in the autumn breeze, and she let her head drop on his shoulder.

"I hate boats." Hawke mumbled and rested his head on top of hers, trying to keep from brushing against her face too much. Anders hovered like a shadow of guilt as on his periphery.

"Me too." He said and motioned for Anders to wait.

"Finally something we have in common." Hawke mumbled and slumped further in on herself.

"At last." He watched the sun creep towards the Horizon. Isabela descended from the helm, her crew buzzing around them like bees.

"Why do my friends keep lying to me? Am I not trustworthy? I am capable of accepting criticism." Hawke muttered as a joke but there was bitterness lying underneath, bitterness he couldn't just chalk up to Isabela nearly getting the city burned to the ground, or Anders blowing up the Chantry. And yet Hawke gave them all chance after chance.

"You give off the impression of a baby duckling." He said and Hawke snorted in response, before wincing.

"Excuse you. I think it's quite obvious that I am a hawk."

Varric shook his head. "That's too cheesy. Even for me."

With a heavy sigh, she sat up straight and settled her lazy eyes on Anders. He almost jumped forward. Hawke untangled herself from him and liberated his arm when Anders knelt down in front of her. Varric stood up but stuck close as Anders got to work. He gently unwrapped the soaked leather from her hand before covering it with both of his, healing magic pulsing.

"I'm still mad at you." Hawke said, words slurring slightly. She was fighting to stay awake.

Anders couldn't bear to look at her until he was done with her hand, and reached out to her face. His jaw clenched at the sight of the distorted sun. Varric hoped it would be unrecognizable once he was done.

"I know." He admitted.

Hawke gave his shoulder a shove. "Next time you want to blow something up you tell me."

"Okay." Anders said. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." Hawke said and leaned her head back with her eyes closed.

Varric took a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked at the others. Fenris put his hands on his hips, his shoulders dropping with a relieved sigh.

"I've got some eyepatches for you." Isabela said with her ridiculous hat and a sly smile. "We are headed for Rivain before heading to Seheron. Fenris’ got some friends there." She said and Varric jerked his head to look at Kirkwall.

The skyline seemed empty without the giant towers of the Chantry sticking up into the sky. They were just heading into the cliffs that were slowly swallowing his hometown from view. Black smoke was still rising into the sky, Hightown, Lowtown, everything was slowly burning away.

"I'll have to text Beth and Carver. Maybe I can visit them in Tevinter." Hawke said and Fenris sneered at her words but otherwise didn't comment. Isabela laughed at his reaction.

"Don't worry I'll protect you." She told him and put an arm around him, pressing him to her bosom.

It was a strange feeling to see Hawke unearth herself so easily. He was eerily reminded of a  
conversation they didn't have too long ago.

'I am sure I'll live in Tevinter at one point.' She had said without a second thought and looked puzzled when he asked if she didn't want to stay in Kirkwall. Hawke had pondered for a while, washing the damn dishes of all things, as if Varric didn't have a perfectly good dishwasher right next to her before admitting she never lived in a place for longer than four years.

He hadn't understood then how traveling a lot could shape a person so much that she didn't think long term about such things.

But Hawke hadn't traveled, she had fled. Her family had moved a lot, Lothering had been the longest she had stayed in one place before Kirkwall. It suddenly explained everything about her. How she made friends with every breath because there was no time to become friends later. Why she didn't put down roots as much as she latched on for dear life and let go just as easily. Why she hadn't been mad when Isabela disappeared on them for almost three years after the Qunari mess. This was what Varric had never understood before.

His city disappearing on the horizon felt like he was getting his arm chopped off.

Fenris and Isabela were talking while Isabela texted. When they looked at Kirkwall, there was only a bittersweet fondness while Varric tried not to choke on the burning anguish in his throat.

"Hey." Hawke's hand reached for him, only barely managing to touch his. He took one step closer so she could grasp him firmly. Her face was still red and blistering but Anders had taken care of the worst. It would scar no doubt but it would heal. She was smiling, despite the exhaustion, despite the pain. "You won't be gone forever." She told him. The woman that didn't have a home, reassured him he still had his.

He returned the grip on her hand as Kirkwall disappeared behind the cliffs, closed his eyes and let the breeze take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a monster. Its both longer than I expected and shorter than I intended. There were originally scenes with Cassandra interrogating Varric that had to be cut but that I will publish after the reveals. I had a lot of fun in this AU and I hope you had too.
> 
> Biggest shout out to my amazing beta that edited this giant, her and my goose friend were the best emotional support. Will add their names once the reveals are out ;)
> 
> Also I thought a lot about this AU if you have any questions about other characters that didn't make it in a lot, I probably thought about it.


End file.
